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SOME   FOLKS 


There 's  as  much  difference  in  '  some  folks1  as  anybody.1' 


SOME   FOLKS. 


BV 

JOHN     HABBERTON, 

AUTHOR  OF 

HELEN'S  BABIES,'    "THE  BARTON  EXPERIMENT/    "THE  SCRIPTURE  CLUU 
OF  VALLEY  REST,'   AND  "OTHER  PEOPLE'S  CHILDREN.' 


SOLD   ONLY  BY  SUBSCRIPTION. 


NEW  YORK :  j  SAN  FRANCISCO : 

DERBY    BROTHERS.   !      A.    ROMAN    &    CO. 

1877. 


Copyrighted  by  FRANK  LESLIE,  1877. 


r 
H5- 


17  tf 


INTKODUCTION. 

MANY  of  the  sketches  contained  in  "Some  Folks" 
were  written  by  me  during  the  past  five  years,  and 
some  of  them  published  by  Mr.  Leslie  in  his  Illus- 
trated Newspaper  and  his  Chimney  Corner,  from  which 
journals  they  have  been  collected  by  friends  who  be- 
lieve that  in  these  stories  is  displayed  better  work- 
manship than  I  have  since  done.  For  myself,  I  can 
claim  for  them  only  an  unusual  degree  of  that  unlit* 
erary  and  unpopular  quality  called  truthfulness. 
Although  at  present  mildly  tolerated  in  the  East,  I 
was  "brought  up"  in  the  West,  and  have  written 
largely  from  recollection  of  "some  folks"  I  have  known, 
veritable  men  and  women,  scenes  and  incidents,  and 
otherwise  through  the  memories  of  Western  friends  of 
good  eyesight  and  hearing  powers. 

Should  any  one  accuse  me  of  having  imitated  Bret 
Jlarte's  style,  I  shall  accept  the  accusation  as  a  com- 
pliment, for  I  know  of  no  other  American  story  writer 
so  worthy  to  be  taken  as  a  teacher  by  men  who  ac- 
ceptably tell  the  stories  of  new  countries.  For  occa- 
sionally introducing  characters  and  motives  that  would 
not  be  considered  disgraceful  in  virtuous  communities, 
I  can  only  plead  in  excuse  the  fact  that,  even  in  the 
New  West,  some  folks  will  occasionally  be  uniformly 
thoughtful,  respectable  and  honest,  just  as  individuals 
sometimes  are  in  the  East. 

JOHN  HABBERTON. 

NEW  YORK,  July  1st,  1877. 


To    FRANK    LESLIE, 

Who,  while  other  publishers  were  advising  the  writer 
of  these  sketches  to  write,  supplied  the  author  with 
encouragement  in  the  shape  of  a  publishing  medium 
and  the  lucre  which  all  literary  men  despise  but  long 
for,  this  volume  is  respectfully  dedicated  by 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  SCHOOLTEACHER  AT  BOTTLE  FLAT 9 

JIM  HOCKSON'S  REVENGE fc 27 

MAKING  HIS  MARK 44 

CODAGO 52 

THE  LAST  PIKE  AT  JAGGCR'S  BEND 61 

FIRST  PRAYER  AT  HANNEY'S 69 

THE  NEW  SHERIFF-  OF  BUNKER  COUNTY 81 

MAJOR  MARTT'S  FRIEND 94 

BUFFLE 109 

MATTELETTE'S  SECTION 130 

A  STORY  OF  TEN  MILE  GULCH 141 

CAPTAIN  SAM'S  CHARGE 154 

Miss  FEWNE'S  LAST  CONQUEST 165 

MARKSON'S  HOUSE 174 

GRUMP'S  PET 194 

TOM  CHAFFLIN'S  LUCK 218 

OLD  TWITCHETT'S  TREASURE 225 

BLIZZER'S  WIFE 231 

A  BOARDING-HOUSE  ROMANCE 245 

RETIRING  FROM  BUSINESS 253 

THE  HARDHACK  MISTAKE 265 

THE  C ARMI  CHUMS 274 

LITTLE  GUZZY 282 

A  ROMANCE  OF  HAPPY  REST 298 

Two  POWERFUL  ARGUMENTS 311 

MR.  PUTCHETT'S  LOVE 321 

THE  MEANEST  MAN  AT  BLUGSEY'S 340 

DEACON  BARKER'S  CONVERSION 356 

JOE  GATTER'S  LIFE  INSURANCE 371 

THE  TEMPERANCE  MEETING  AT  BLACKLEV 381 

JUDE 391 

A  LOVE  OF  A  COTTAGE ....  .403 

THE  BLEIGHTON  RIVALS 426 

BUDGE  AND  TODDIE  AT  AUNT  ALICE'S 438 

SAILING  UP  STREAM 477 

FREE  SPEECH 494 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

FRONTISPIECE 4 

TOLEDO  AND  THE  COMMITTEE'S  VISIT I4 

"  HE  HELD  IT  UNDER  THE  LIGHT  " 28 

" THEY  FOUND  HIM  SENSELESS,"  ETC 48 

FINDING  THE  BABY 56 

THE  GOLDEN  HARVEST 68 

PASSING  THE  HAT 73 

EAST  PATTEN , 95 

THE  ROUGH  GREETING 112 

THE  BABY'S  NAME 128 

THE  DESERTED  COTTAGK 129 

THE  PRAIRIE  FARM 140 

AN  INVITATION  TO  WAIT 149 

A  LOVELY  EXPERIENCE—"  SPILED  " 163 

A  STRANGE  PROCEDURE 182 

THE  PLACARD  ON  THE  DOOR 209 

THE  CIRCUIT  PREACHER 217 

KISSING  SUNRISE 223 

A  DISCOVERY 242 

THE  LIKENESS 259 

MOTHER  AND  SON  MEET 263 

COUNTRY  INQUISITIVENESS 271 

HUSBAND  AND  WIFE 290 

IN  PRISON 293 

RUM  VALLEY 310 

NEAR  His  END 317 

THE  BONNEYS  EMIGRATE 320 

MR.  PUTCHETT'S  NEW  FRIEND 325 

"  GOOD-BY,  LITTLE  ANGEL  !" 334 

COOL  IN  FACE  OF  DANGER 346 

"THAT'S  PET'S  MOTHER" 352 

THE  RICH  MAN'S  CHURCH 363 

TALKING  OVER  INSURANCE 375 

THE  MEETING 385 

"  GKT  HIM  !     GET  JOHNNY  !" 396 

DOWN  THE  STREAM 402 

THE  WELCOME  HOME 411 

THE  COTTAGE 425 

"I  CAME  TO  PLEAD  FOR  THE  MAJOR " 433 

PROCESS  OF  BEING  LOCKED  UP 448 

BREAKFAST 463 


SOME  FOLKS. 


THE   SCHOOLTEACHER  AT  BOTTLE  FLAT. 

IT  certainly  was  hard.  What  was  the  freedom  of  a  country 
in  which  the  voice  of  the  original  founders  was  spent 
in  vain?  Had  not  they,  the  "Forty"  miners  of  Bottle 
Flat,  really  started  the  place  ?  Hadn't  they  located  claims 
there?  Hadn't  they  contributed  three  ounces  each,  osten- 
sibly to  set  up  in  business  a  brother  miner  who  unfortun- 
ately lost  an  arm,  but  really  that  a  saloon  might  be  opened, 
and  the  genuineness  and  stability  of  the  camp  be  assured? 
Hadn't  they  promptly  killed  or  scared  away  every  China- 
man who  had  ever  trailed  his  celestial  pig-tail  into  the  Flat? 
Hadn't  they  cut  and  beaten  a  trail  to  Placerville,  so  that 
miners  could  take  a  run  to  that  city  when  the  Flat  became 
too  quiet?  Hadn't  they  framed  the  squarest  betting  code 
in  the  whole  diggings  ?  And  when  a  'Frisco  man  basely 
attempted  to  break  up  the  camp  by  starting  a  gorgeous 
saloon  a  few  miles  up  the  creek,  hadn't  they  gone  up  in  a 
body  and  cleared  him  out,  giving  him  only  ten  minutes  in 
which  to  leave  the  creek  for  ever?  All  this  they  had  done, 
actuated  only  by  a  stern  sense  of  duty,  and  in  the  patient 
anticipation  of  the  reward  which  traditionally  crowns  vir- 
tuous action.  But  now — oh,  ingratitude  of  republics  ! — a 
schoolteacher  was  to  be  forced  upon  Bottle  Flat  in  spite  of 
all  the  protest  which  they,  the  oldest  inhabitants,  had  made ! 
Such  had  been  their  plaint  for  days,  but  the  sad  excite- 
ment had  not  been  productive  of  any  fights,  for  the  few 
married  men  in  the  camp  prudently  absented  themselves  at 


10  WHAT'S  BEST  TO  BE  DONE  ? 

night  from  "The  Nugget"  saloon,  where  the  matter  was 
fiercely  discussed  every  evening.  There  was,  therefore,  such 
an  utter  absence  of  diversity  of  opinion,  that  the  most 
quarrelsome  searched  in  vain  for  provocation. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  the  opening 
events  of  this  story  occurred,  the  boys,  by  agreement,  stopped 
-work  two  hours  earlier  than  usual,  for  the  stage  usually 
reached  Bottle  Flat  about  two  hours  before  sundown,  and 
the  one  of  that  day  was  to  bring  the  hated  teacher.  The 
boys  had  wellnigh  given  up  the  idea  of  further  resistance, 
yet  curiosity  has  a  small  place  even  in  manly  bosoms,  and 
they  could  at  least  look  hatred  at  the  detested  pedagogue. 
So  about  four  o'clock  they  gathered  at  The  Nugget  so 
suddenly,  that  several  fathers,  who  were  calmly  drinking 
inside,  had  barely  time  to  escape  through  the  back  win- 
dows. 

The  boys  drank  several  times  before  composing  them- 
selves into  their  accustomed  seats  and  leaning-places ;  but 
it  was  afterward  asserted,  and  Southpaw — the  one-armed 
bar-keeper — cited  as  evidence,  that  none  of  them  took  sugar 
in  their  liquor.  They  subjected  their  sorrow  to  homeo- 
pathic treatment  by  drinking  only  the  most  raw  and  rasping 
fluids  that  the  bar  afforded. 

The  preliminary  drinking  over,  they  moodily  whittled, 
chewed,  and  expectorated ;  a  stranger  would  have  imagined 
them  a  batch  of  miserable  criminals  awaiting  transportation. 

The  silence  was  finally  broken  by  a  decided-looking 
red-haired  man,  who  had  been  neatly  beveling  the  door-post 
with  his  knife,  and  who  spoke  as  if  his  words  only  by  great 
difficulty  escaped  being  bitten  in  two. 

"We  ken  burn  down  the  schoolhouse  right  before  his 
face  and  eyes,  and  then  rnebbe  the  State  Board  '11  git  our 
idees  about  eddycation." 

"Twon't  be  no  use,  Mose,"  said  Judge  Barber,  whose 
legal  title  was  honorary,  and  conferred  because  he  had  spent 
some  time  in  a  penitentiary  in  the  East.  "Them  State 
Board  fellers  is  wrong,  but  they've  got  grit,  ur  they'd  never 


WHO'S  TO  MARRY  THE  WIDDER  ?  11 

Jhev  got  the  schoolhouse  done  after  we  rode  the  contractor 
out  uv  the  Flat  on  one  of  his  own  boards.  Besides,  some  uv 
'em  might  think  we  wuz  rubbin'  uv  it  in,  an'  next  thing  you 
know'd  they'd  be  buildin'  us  a  jail." 

"Can't  we  buy  off  these  young  uns'  folks?"  queried  an 
angular  fellow  from  Southern  Illinois.  "They're  a  mizzable 
pack  of  shotes,  an'  I  b'leeve  they'd  all  leave  the  camp  fur  a 
few  ounces." 

"Ye — es,"  drawled  the  judge,  dubiously;  "but  thar's 
the  Widder  Ginneys — sJie'd  pan  out  a  pretty  good  school- 
room-full with  her  eight  young  uns,  an'  there  ain't  ounces 
enough  in  the  diggin's  to  make  her  leave  while  Tom 
Ginneys' s  coffin's  roostin'  under  the  rocks." 

"Then,"  said  Mose,  the  first  speaker,  his  words  escaping 
with  even  more  difficulty  than  before,  "  throw  around  keards 
to  see  who's  to  marry  the  widder,  an'  boss  her  young  uns. 
The  feller  that  gits  the  fust  Jack's  to  do  the  job." 

"Meanin'  no  insult  to  this  highly  respectable  crowd," 
said  the  judge,  in  a  very  bland  tone,  and  inviting  it  to  walk 
up  to  the  bar  and  specify  its  consolation,  "I  don't  b'leevo 
there's  one  uv  yer  the  widder'd  hev."  The  judge's  ey\ 
glanced  along  the  line  at  the  bar,  and  he  continued  softly, 
but  in  decided  accents — "Not  a  cussed  one.  But,"  added 
the  judge,  passing  his  pouch  to  the  barkeeper,  "if  anything's 
to  be  done,  it  must  ba  done  lively,  fur  the  stage  is  pretty 
nigh  here.  Tell  ye  what's  ez  good  ez  enny thing.  We'll 
crowd  around  the  stage,  fust  throwin'  keards  for  who's  to 
put  out  his  hoof  to  be  accidently  trod  onto  by  the  infernal 
teacher  ez  he  gits  out.  Then  satisfaction  must  be  took  out 
uv  the  teacher.  It'll  be  a  mean  job,  fur  these  teachers 
hevn't  the  spunk  of  a  coyote,  an'  ten  to  one  he  won't  hev  no 
shootin'  irons,  so  the  job  '11  hev  to  be  done  with  fists." 

"Good!"  said  Mose.  "The  crowd  drinks  with  me  to  a 
.square  job,  and  no  backin'.  Chuck  the  pasteboards,  jedge 
The — dickens ! "  For  Mose  had  got  first  Jack. 

"Square  job,  and  no  backin',"  said  the  judge,  with  a 
grin.  There's  the  stage  now — hurry  up,  fellers ! " 


12  I'M    THE    TEACHER,   GENTLEMEN.' 

The  stage  drew  up  with  a  crash  in  front  of  The  Nugget, 
and  the  passengers,  outside  and  in,  but  none  looking  teach- 
erish,  hurried  into  the  saloon.  The  boys  scarcely  knew 
whether  to  swear  from  disappointment  or  gratification,  when 
a  start  from  Mose  drew  their  attention  again  to  the  stage. 
On  the  top  step  appeared  a  small  shoe,  above  which  was 
visible  a  small  section  of  stocking  far  whiter  and  smaller 
than  is  usual  in  the  mines.  In  an  instant  a  similar  shoe 
appeared  on  the  lower  step,  and  the  boys  saw,  successively, 
the  edge  of  a  dress,  a  waterproof  cloak,  a  couple  of  small 
gloved  hands,  a  bright  muffler,  and  a  pleasant  face  covered 
with  brown  hair,  and  a  bonnet.  Then  they  heard  a  cheerful 
voice  say: 

"I'm  the  teacher,  gentlemen — can  any  one  show  me  the 
schoolhouse  ?  " 

The  miserable  Mose  looked  ghastly,  and  tottered.  A 
suspicion  of  a  wink  graced  the  judge's  eye,  but  he  exclaimed 
in  a  stern,  low  tone :  "Square  job,  an'  no  backin',"  upon 
which  Mose  took  to  his  heels  and  the  Placerville  trail. 

The  judge  had  been  a  married  man,  so  he  promptly 
answered : 

"I'll  take  yer  thar,  mum,  ez  soon  ez  I  git  yer  baggage." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  teacher;  "that  valise  under  the 
seat  is  all." 

The  judge  extracted  a  small  valise  marked  "Huldah 
Brown,"  offered  his  arm,  and  he  and  the  teacher  walked  off 
before  the  astonished  crowd  as  naturally  as  if  the  appear- 
ance of  a  modest-looking  young  lady  was  an  ordinary  occur- 
rence at  the  Flat. 

The  stage  refilled,  and  rattled  away  from  the  dumb  and 
staring  crowd,  and  the  judge  returned. 

"Well,  boys,"  said  he,  "yer  got  to  marry  two  women, 
now,  to  stop  that  school,  an'  you'll  find  this  un  more  par- 
ticler  than  the  widder.  I  just  tell  yer  what  it  is  about  that 
school— it's  agoin'  to  go  on,  spite  uv  any  jackasses  that 
wants  it  broke  up;  an'  any  gentleman  that's  insulted  ken  git. 
satisfaction  by " 


TOLEDO  AND  TI1E  COittllTTEEKEN  S  VISIT  TO  THE  8CHOOLTE ACHES. 


THE    SCHOOLTEACHER    RECEIVES    A    CALL.  15 

"Who  wants  it  broke  up,  you  old  fool?"  demanded 
Toledo,  a  man  who  had  been  named  after  the  city  from 
which  he  had  come,  and  who  had  been  from  the  first  one  of 
the  fiercest  opponents  of  the  school.  "I  move  the  appoint- 
ment uv  a  committee  of  three  to  wait  on  the  teacher,  see  if 
the  school  wants  anything  money  can  buy,  take  up  subscrip- 
tions to  git  it,  an'  lay  out  any  feller  that  don't  come  down 
with  the  dust  when  he's  went  fur." 

"Hurray!"  "Bully!"  "Good!"  "Sound!"  "Them's  the 
talk!"  and  other  sympathetic  expressions,  were  heard  from 
the  members  of  the  late  anti-school  party. 

The  judge,  who,  by  virtue  of  age,  was  the  master  of  cere- 
monies and  general  moderator  of  the  camp,  very  promptly 
appointed  a  committee,  consisting  of  Toledo  and  two  miners, 
whose  attire  appeared  the  most  respectable  in  the  place,  and 
instructed  them  to  wait  011  the  schoolmarm,  and  tender  her 
the  cordial  support  of  the  miners. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  committee  called  at  the 
schoolhouse,  attached  to  which  were  two  small  rooms  in 
which  teachers  were  expected  to  keep  house. 

The  committee  found  the  teacher  "putting  to  rights" 
the  schoolroom.  Her  dress  was  tucked  up,  her  sleeves- 
rolled,  her  neck  hidden  by  a  bright  handkerchief,  and  her 
hair  "a-blowin'  all  to  glory,"  as  Toledo  afterward  expressed 
it.  Between  the  exertion,  the  bracing  air,  and  the  excite- 
ment caused  by  the  newness  of  everything,  Miss  Brown's 
pleasant  face  was  almost  handsome. 

"Mornin',  marm,"  said  Toledo,  raising  a  most  shocking 
hat,  while  the  remaining  committee  -  men  expeditiously 
ranged  themselves  behind  him,  so  that  the  teacher  might  by 
no  chance  look  into  their  eyes. 

"  Good-morning,  gentlemen,"  said  Miss  Brown,  with  a 
cheerful  smile;  "please  be  seated.  I  suppose  you  wish  to 
speak  of  your  children?" 

Toledo,  who  was  a  very  young  man,  blushed,  and  the 
whole  committee  was  as  uneasy  on  its  feet  as  if  its  boots 
had  been  soled  with  fly-blisters.  Finally,  Toledo  answered : 


16  THE  BOYS  HEZ  GOT  THE  DUST. 


"Not  m-Kch,  marm,  seem'  we  ain't  got  none.  Me  anj 
these  gentlemen's  a  committee  from  the  boys." 

"From  the  boys?"  echoed  Miss  Brown.  She  had 
heard  so  many  wonderful  things  about  the  Golden  State, 
that  now  she  soberly  'wondered  whether  bearded  men  called 
themselves  boys,  and  went  to  school. 

"From  the  miners,  washin'  along  the  crick,  marm  —  they 
want  to  know  what  they  ken  do  fur  yer,"  continued  To- 
ledo. 

"I  am  very  grateful,"  said  Miss  Brown;  "but  I  suppose 
the  local  school  committee  -  " 

"Don't  count  on  them,  marm,"  interrupted  Toledo; 
"  they're  livin'  five  miles  away,  and  they're  only  the  preacher, 
an'  doctor,  an'  a  feller  that's  j'ined  the  church  lately.  None 
uv  'em  but  the  doctor  ever  shows  themselves  at  the  saloon, 
an'  lie  only  comes  when  there's  a  diffikilty,  an'  he's  called  in 
to  officiate.  But  the  boys  —  the  boys  hez  got  the  dust, 
marm,  an'  they've  got  the  will.  One  uv  us  '11  be  in  often  to 
see  what  can  be  done  fur  yer.  Good-mornin',  marm." 

Toledo  raised  his  hat  again,  the  other  committee-men 
bowed  profoundly  to  all  the  windows  and  seats,  and  then  the 
whole  retired,  leaving  Miss  Brown  in  the  wondering  posses- 
sion of  an  entirely  new  experience. 

"Well?"  inquired  the  crowd,  as  the  committee  ap- 
proached the  creek. 

"Well,"  replied  Toledo,  "she's  just  a  hundred  an'  thirty 
pound  nugget,  an'  no  mistake  —  hey,  fellers  ?  " 

"You  bet,"  promptly  responded  the  remainder  of  the 
committee. 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  judge.     "  What  does  she  want  ?  " 

Toledo's  countenance  fell. 

"By  thunder!"  he  replied,  "we  got  out  'fore  she  had  a 
chance  to  tell  us  !  " 

The  judge  stared  sharply  upon  the  young  man,  and 
hurriedly  turned  to  hide  a  merry  twitching  of  his  lips. 

That  afternoon  the  boys  were  considerably  astonished 
and  scared  at  seeing  the  schoolmistress  walking  quickly 


"  WHO'S    GOT    THE    CLEANEST    PAN  ?"  17 

toward  the  creek.     The  chairman  of  the  new  committee  was 
fully  equal  to  the  occasion.     Mounting  a  rock,  he  roared : 

"  You  fellers  without  no  sherts  on,  git.  You  with  shoes 
off,  put  'em  on.  Take  your  pants  out  uv  yer  boots.  Hats 
off  when  the  lady  comes.  Hurry  up,  now — no  foolin'." 

The  shirtless  ones  took  a  lively  double-quick  toward 
some  friendly  bushes,  the  boys  rolled  down  their  sleeves  and 
pantaloons,  and  one  or  two  took  the  extra  precaution  to 
wash  the  mud  off  their  boots. 

Meanwhile  Miss  Brown  approached,  and  Toledo  stepped 
forward. 

"Anything  wrong  up  at  the  schoolhouse  ? "  said  he. 

"Oh,  no,  replied  Miss  Brown,  "but  I  have  always  had  a 
great  curiosity  to  see  how  gold  was  obtained.  It  seems  as 
if  it  must  be  very  easy  to  handle  those  little  pans.  Don't 
you- — don't  you  suppose  some  miner  would  lend  me  his  pan 
and  let  me  try  just  once  ?  " 

"  Certingly,  marm ;  ev'ry  galoot  ov  'em  would  be  glad  of 
the  chance.  Here, you  fellers — who's  got  the  cleanest  pan?" 

Half  a  dozen  men  washed  out  their  pans,  and  hurried  off 
with  them.  Toledo  selected  one,  put  in  dirt  and  water,  and 
handed  it  to  Miss  Brown. 

"Thar  you  are,  marm,  but  I'm  afeared  you'll  wet  your 
dress." 

"Oh,  that  won't  harm,"  cried  Miss  Brown,  with  a  laugh 
which  caused  one  enthusiastic  miner  to  "cut  the  pigeon- 
wing." 

She  got  the  miner's  touch  to  a  nicety,  and  in  a  moment 
had  a  spray  of  dirty  water  flying  from  the  edge  of  the  pan, 
while  all  the  boys  stood  in  a  respectful  semicircle,  and 
stared  delightedly.  The  pan  empty,  Toledo  refilled  it 
several  times;  and,  finally,  picking  out  some  pebbles  and 
hard  pieces  of  earth,  pointed  to  the  dirty,  shiny  deposit  in 
the  bottom  of  the  pan,  and  briefly  remarked : 

"Thar 'tis,  marm." 

"Oh!"  screamed  Miss  Brown,  with  delight;  "is  that 
really  gold-dust  ?  " 


18  "  THEM    BOOTS    AIN'T    FOB    SALE    NOW." 

"That's  it,"  said  Toledo.  "I'll  jest  put  it  up  fur  yer,  so 
yer  ken  kerry  it." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Miss  Brown,  "I  couldn't  think  of  it — it 
isn't  mine." 

"You  washed  it  out,  marm,  an'  that  makes  a  full  title  in 
these  parts." 

All  of  the  traditional  honesty  of  New  England  came  into 
Miss  Brown's  face  in  an  instant ;  and,  although  she,  Yankee- 
like,  estimated  the  value  of  the  dust,  and  sighingly  thought 
how  much  easier  it  was  to  win  gold  in  that  way  than  by 
forcing  ideas  into  stupid  little  heads,  she  firmly  declined  the 
gold,  and  bade  the  crowd  a  smiling  good-day. 

"Did  yer  see  them  little  fingers  uv  hern  a-holdiii'  out 
that  pan? — did  yer  see  her,  fellers?"  inquired  an  excited 
miner. 

"Yes,  an'  the  way  she  made  that  dirt  git,  ez  though  she 
was  useder  to  washin'  than  wallopin'/'  said  another. 

"Wallopin'!"  echoed  a  staid  miner.  "I'd  gie  my  claim, 
an'  throw  in  my  pile  to  boot,  to  be  a  young  'un  an'  git 
walloped  by  them  playthings  of  han's." 

"Jest  see  how  she  throwed  dirt  an.'  water  on  them 
boots,"  said  another,  extending  an  enormous  ugly  boot. 
"Them  boots  ain't  fur  sale  now — them  ain't." 

"Them  be  durned!"  contemptuously  exclaimed  another. 
"She  tramped  right  on  my  toes  as  she  backed  out  uv  the 
crowd." 

Every  one  looked  jealously  at  the  last  speaker,  and  a 
grim  old  fellow  suggested  that  the  aforesaid  individual  had 
obtained  a  trampled  foot  by  fraud,  and  that  each  man  in 
camp  had,  consequently,  a  right  to  demand  satisfaction  o£ 
him. 

But  the  judge  decided  that  he  of  the  trampled  foot  was 
right,  and  that  any  miner  who  wouldn't  take  such  a  chance, 
whether  fraudulently  or  otherwise,  hadn't  the  spirit  of  a 
man  in  him. 

Yankee  Sam,  the  shortest  man  in  camp,  withdrew  from 
the  crowd,  and  paced  the  banks  of  the  creek,  lost  in  thought 


19* 

Within  half  an  hour  Sam  was  owner  of  the  only  store  in  the 
place,  had  doubled  the  prices  of  all  articles  of  clothing 
contained  therein,  and  increased  at  least  six-fold  the  price  of 
all  the  white  shirts. 

Next  day  the  sun  rose  on  Bottle  Flat  in  his  usual 
conservative  and  impassive  manner.  Had  he  respected  the 
dramatic  proprieties,  he  would  have  appeared  with  aston- 
ished face  and  uplifted  hands,  for  seldom  had  a  whole 
community  changed  so  completely  in  a  single  night. 

Uncle  Hans,  the  only  German  in  the  camp,  had  spent  the 
preceding  afternoon  in  that  patient  investigation  for  whick 
the  Teutonic  mind  is  so  justly  noted.  The  morning  sun 
saw  over  Hans's  door  .a  sign,  in  charcoal,  which  read, 
"SHAVIN'  DUN  HIER";  and  few  men  went  to  the  creek  that 
morning  without  submitting  themselves  to  Hans's  hands. 

Then  several  men  who  had  been  absent  from  the  saloon 
the  night  before  straggled  into  camp,  with  jaded  mules  and 
new  attire.  Carondelet  Joe  came  in,  clad  in  a  pair  of  pants, 
on  which  slender  saffron -hued  serpents  ascended  graceful 
gray  Corinthian  columns,  while  from  under  the  collar  of  a. 
new  white  shirt  appeared  a  cravat,  displaying  most  of  the 
lines  of  the  solar  spectrum. 

Flush,  the  Flat  champion  at  poker,  came  in  late  in  the 
afternoon,  with  a  huge  watch-chain,  and  an  overpowering 
bosom-pin,  and  his  horrid  fingers  sported  at  least  one  seal- 
ring  each. 

Several  stove-pipe  hats  were  visible  in  camp,  and  even  a 
pair  of  gloves  were  reported  in  the  pocket  of  a  miner. 

Yankee  Sam  had  sold  out  his  entire  stock,  and  prevented 
bloodshed  over  his  only  bottle  of  hair-oil  by  putting  it  up  at 
a  raffle,  in  forty  chances,  at  an  ounce  a  chance.  His  stock  of 
white  shirts,  seven  in  number,  were  visible  on  manly  forms  ; 
his  pocket  combs  and  glasses  were  all  gone  ;  and  there  had 
been  a  steady  run  on  needles  and  thread.  Most  of  the 
miners  were  smoking  new  white  clay  pipes,  while  a  few 
thoughtful  ones,  hoping  for  a  repetition  of  the  events  of  the 
previous  day,  had  scoured  their  pans  to  a  dazzling  brightness. 


20  THE     SINGING    SCHOOL. 

As  for  the  innocent  cause  of  all  this  commotion,  she  was 
fully  as  excited  as  the  miners  themselves.  She  had  never 
been  outside  of  Middle  Bethany,  until  she  started  for  Cali- 
fornia. Everything  on  the  trip  had  been  strange,  and  her 
stopping-place  and  its  people  were  stranger  than  all.  The 
male  population  of  Middle  Bethany,  as  is  usual  with  small 
New  England  villages,  consisted  almost  entirely  of  very 
young  boys  and  very  old  men.  But  here  at  Bottle  Flat 
were  hosts  of  middle-aged  men,  and  such  funny  ones !  She 
was  wild  to  see  more  of  them,  and  hear  them  talk ;  yet,  her 
wildness  was  no  match  for  her  prudence.  She  sighed  to 
think  how  slightly  Toledo  had  spoken  of  the  minister  on 
the  local  committee,  and  she  piously  admitted  to  herself 
that  Toledo  and  his  Mends  were  undoubtedly  on  the  brink 
of  the  bottomless  pit,  and  yet— they  certainly  were  very 
kind.  If  she  could  only  exert  a  good  influence  upon  these 
men — but  how  ? 

Suddenly  she  bethought  herself  of  the  grand  social 
centre  of  Middle  Bethany — the  singing-school.  Of  course, 
she  couldn't  start  a  singing-school  at  Bottle  Flat,  but  if  she 
were  to  say  the  children  needed  to  be  led  in  singing,  would 
it  be  very  hypocritical?  She  might  invite  such  of  the 
miners  as  were  musically  inclined  to  lead  the  school  in 
singing  in  the  morning,  and  thus  she  might,  perhaps,  remove 
some  of  the  prejudice  which,  she  had  been  informed,  existed 
against  the  school. 

She  broached  the  subject  to  Toledo,  and  that  faithful 
official  had  nearly  every  miner  in  camp  at  the  schoolhouse 
that  same  evening.  The  judge  brought  a  fiddle,  Uncle 
Hans  came  with  a  cornet,  and  Yellow  Pete  came  grinning  in 
with  his  darling  banjo. 

There  was  a  little  disappointment  all  around  when  the 
boys  declared  their  ignorance  of  "Greenville"  and  "Bonny 
Doon,"  which  airs  Miss  Brown  decided  were  most  easy  for 
the  children  to  begin  with ;  but  when  it  was  ascertained 
that  the  former  was  the  air  to  "Saw  My  Leg  Off,"  and  the 
litter  was  %  identical  with  the  "  Three  Black  Crows,"  all 


FRONT  SEATS  IN  DEMAND.  21 

friction  was  removed,  and  the  melodious  howling  attracted 
the  few  remaining  boys  at  the  saloon,  and  brought  them  up  in 
a  body,  led  by  the  barkeeper  himself. 

The  exact  connection  between  melody  and  adoration  is 
yet  an  unsolved  religio-psychological  problem.  But  we  all 
know  that  everywhere  in  the  habitable  globe  the  two  in- 
termingle, and  stimulate  each  other,  whether  the  adora- 
tion be  offered  to  heavenly  or  earthly  objects.  And  so  it 
came  to  pass  that,  at  the  Bottle  Flat  singing-school,  the 
boys  looked  straight  at  the  teacher  while  they  raised  their 
tuneful  voices ;  that  they  came  ridiculously  early,  so  as  to 
get  front  seats ;  and  that  they  purposely  sung  out  of  tune, 
once  in  a  while,  so  as  to  be  personally  addressed  by  the 
teacher. 

And  she — pure,  modest,  prudent,  and  refined — saw  it  all, 
and  enjoyed  it  intensely.  Of  course,  it  could  never  go  any 
further,  for  though  there  was  in  Middle  Bethany  no 
moneyed  aristocracy,  the  best  families  scorned  alliances 
with  any  who  were  undegenerate,  and  would  not  be 
unequally  yoked  with  those  who  drank,  swore,  and  gambled — 
let  alone  the  fearful  suspicion  of  murder,  which  Miss 
Brown's  imagination  affixed  to  every  man  at  the  Flat. 

But  the  boys  themselves — considering  the  unspeakable 
contempt  which  had  been  manifested  in  the  camp  for  the 
profession  of  teaching,  and  for  all  who  practiced  it — the 
boys  exhibited  a  condescension  truly  Christian.  They  vied 
with  each  other  in  manifesting  it,  and  though  the  means 
were  not  always  the  most  appropriate,  the  honesty  of  the 
sentiment  could  not  be  doubted. 

One  by  one  the  greater  part  of  the  boys,  after  adoring 
and  hoping,  saw  for  themselves  that  Miss  Brown  could 
never  be  expected  to  change  her  name  at  their  solicitation. 
Sadder  but  better  men,  they  retired  from  the  contest,  and 
solaced  themselves  by  betting  on  the  chances  of  those  still 
"on  the  track,"  as  an  ex-jockey  tersely  expressed  the 
situation. 

There  was   no  talk  of  "false   hearted"  or  "fair  temp- 


22  BETTING  ON  THE  FAVORITES. 

tress,"  such  as  men  often  hear  in  society ;  for  not  only  had 
all  the  tenderness  emanated  from  manly  breasts  alone,  but 
it  had  never  taken  form  of  words. 

Soon  the  hopeful  ones  were  reduced  to  half  a  dozen  of 
these.  Yankee  Sam  was  the  favorite  among  the  betting 
men,  for  Sam,  knowing  the  habits  of  New  England  damsels, 
went  to  Placerville  one  Friday,  and  returned  next  day  with 
a  horse  and  buggy.  On  Sunday  he  triumphantly  drove 
Miss  Brown  to  the  nearest  church.  Ten  to  one  was  offered 
on  Sam  that  Sunday  afternoon,  as  the  boys  saw  the  demure 
and  contented  look  on  Miss  Brown's  face  as  she  returned 
from  church.  But  Samuel  followed  in  the  sad  footsteps 
of  many  another  great  man,  for  so  industriously  did  he 
drink  to  his  own  success  that  he  speedily  developed  into  a 
load  case  of  delirium  tremens. 

Then  Carondelet  Joe,  calmly  confident  in  the  influence 
of  his  wonderful  pants,  led  all  odds  in  betting.  But  one 
•evening,  when  Joe  had  managed  to  get  himself  in  the  front 
row  and  directly  before  the  little  teacher,  that  lady  turned 
her  head  several  times  and  showed  signs  of  discomfort. 
"When  it  finally  struck  the  latter  that  the  human  breath 
might,  perhaps,  waft  toward  a  lady  perfumes  more  agree- 
able than  those  of  mixed  drinks,  he  abruptly  quitted  the 
school  and  the  camp. 

"'Flush,  the  poker  champion,  carried  with  him  to  the 
ringing-school  that  astounding  impudence  which  had  long 
been  the  terror  and  admiration  of  the  camp.  But  a  quality 
which  had  always  seemed  exactly  the  thing  when  applied 
to  poker  seemed  to  the  boys  barely  endurable  when  dis- 
played toward  Miss  Brown. 

One  afternoon,  Flush  indiscreetly  indulged  in  some 
triumphant  and  rather  slighting  remarks  about  the  little 
teacher.  Within  fifteen  minutes,  Flush's  final  earthly  home 
lad  been  excavated,  and  an  amateur  undertaker  was 
making  his  coffin. 

An  untimely  proposal  by  a  good-looking  young  Mexican, 
.and  his  prompt  rejection,  left  the  race  between  Toledo  and 


23 

a  Frenchman  named  Lecomte.  It  also  left  Miss  Brown 
considerably  frightened,  for  until  now  she  had  imagined 
nothing  more  serious  than  the  rude  admiration  which  had 
so  delighted  her  at  first. 

But  now,  who  knew  but  some  one  else  would  be  ridicu- 
lous? Poor  little  Miss  Brown  suffered  acutely  at  the 
thought  of  giving  pain,  and  determined  to  be  more  demure 
than  ever. 

'  But  alas  !  even  her  agitation  seemed  to  make  her  more 
charming  to  her  two  remaining  lovers. 

Had  the  boys  at  the  saloon  comprehended  in  the  least 
the  cause  of  Miss  Brown's  uneasiness,  they  would  have 
promptly  put  both  Lecomte  and  Toledo  out  of  the  camp,  or 
out  of  the  world.  But  to  their  good-natured,  conceited 
minds  it  meant  only  that  she  was  confused,  and  unable  to 
decide,  and  unlimited  betting  was  done,  to  be  settled  upon 
the  retirement  of  either  of  the  contestants. 

And  while  patriotic  feeling  influenced  the  odds  rather  in 
Toledo's  favor,  it  was  fairly  admitted  that  the  Frenchman 
was  a  formidable  rival. 

To  all  the  grace  of  manner,  and  the  knowledge  of  women 
that  seems  to  run  in  Gallic  blood,  he  was  a  man  of  tolerable 
education  and  excellent  taste.  Besides,  Miss  Brown  was  so 
totally  different  from  French  women,  that  every  develop- 
ment of  her  character  afforded  him  an  entirely  new  sensa- 
tion, and  doubled  his  devotion. 

Toledo  stood  his.  ground  manfully,  though  the  boys 
considered  it  a  very  bad  sign  when  he  stopped  drinking,  and 
spent  hours  in  pacing  the  ground  in  front  of  his  hut,  with 
his  hands  behind  him,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

Finally,  when  he  was  seen  one  day  to  throw  away  his 
faithful  old  pipe,  heavy  betters  hastened  to  "  hedge  "  as  well 
as  they  might. 

Besides,  as  one  of  the  boys  truthfully  observed,  "  He 
couldn't  begin  to  wag  a  jaw  along  with  that  Frenchman." 

But,  like  many  other  young  men,  he  could  talk  quite 
eloquently  with  his  eyes,  and  as  the  language  of  the  eyes  is 


24  GOING    BACK    ON    THE    COMFORTS    OF    LIFE. 

always  direct,  and  purely  grammatical,  Miss  Brown  under- 
stood everything  they  said,  and,  to  her  great  horror,  once  or 
twice  barely  escaped  talking  back. 

The  poor  little  teacher  was  about  to  make  the  whole 
matter  a  subject  of  special  prayer,  when  a  knock  at  the 
door  startled  her. 

She  answered  it,  and  beheld  the  homely  features  of  the 
judge. 

"I  just  come  in  to  talk  a  little  matter  that's  been 
botherin'  me  some  time.  Ye'll  pardon  me  ef  I  talk  a  little 
plain?"  said  he. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  teacher,  wondering  if  he,  too, 
had  joined  her  persecutors. 

"Thank  ye,"  said  the  judge,  looking  relieved.  "It's  all 
right.  I've  got  darters  to  hum  ez  big  ez  you  be,  an'  I  want 
to  talk  to  yer  ez  ef  yer  was  one  uv  'em." 

The  judge  looked  uncertain  for  a  moment,  and  then 
proceeded  : 

"That  feller  Toledo's  dead  in  love  with  yer— uv  course 
you  know  it,  though  'tain't  likely  he's  told  yer.  All  I  want 
to  say  'bout  him  is,  drop  him  kindly.  He's  been  took  so 
bad  sence  you  come,  that  he's  stopped  drinkin'  an'  chewin' 
an'  smokin'  an'  cussin',  an'  he  hasn't  played  a  game  at  The 
Nugget  sence  the  first  singin'-school  night.  Mebbe  this  all 
ain't  much  to  you,  but  you've  read  'bout  that  woman  that 
was  spoke  well  uv  fur  doin'  what  she  could.  He's  the  fust 
feller  I've  ever  seen  in  the  diggin's  that  went  back  on  all 
the  comforts  uv  life,  an' — an'  I've  been  a 'young  man  myself, 
an'  know  how  big  a  claim  it's  been  fur  him  to  work.  I  ain't 
got  the  heart  to  see  him  spiled  now  ;  but  he  ivill  be  ef,  when 
yer  hev  to  drop  him,  yer  don't  do  it  kindly.  An' — just  one 
thing  more — the  quicker  he's  out  of  his  misery  the  better." 

The  old  jail-bird  screwed  a  tear  out  of  his  eye  with  a 
dirty  knuckle,  and  departed  abruptly,  leaving  the  little 
teacher  just  about  ready  to  cry  herself. 

But  before  she  was  quite  ready,  another  knock  startled 
her. 


"  OUT    OF    HIS    MISERY,    BY    THUNDER !"  25 

She  opened  the  door,  and  let  in  Toledo  himself. 

"Good-evin',  marm,"  said  he,  gravely.     "I  just  come  in 

to  make  my  last  'fficial  call,  seein'  I'm  goin'  away  to-morrer. 

Ez  there  anything  the  schoolhouse  wants  I  ken  git  an'  send 

from  'Frisco  ?"  t 

"Going  away!"  ejaculated  the  teacher,  heedless  of  the 
remainder  of  Toledo's  sentence. 

"Yes,  marm;  goin'  away  fur  good.  Fact  is,  I've  been 
tryin'  to  behave  myself  lately,  an'  I  find  I  need  more 
company  at  it  than  I  git  about  the  diggin's.  I'm  goin' 
some  place  whar  I  ken  learn  to  be  the  gentleman  I  feel  like 
bein' — to  be  decent  an'  honest,  an'  useful,  an'  there  ain't 
anybody  here  that  keers  to  help  a  feller  that  way — 
nobody." 

The  ancestor  of  the  Browns  of  Middle  Bethany  was  at 
Lexington  on  that  memorable  morning  in  '75,  and  all  of  his 
promptness  and  his  courage,  ten  times  multiplied,  swelled 
the  heart  of  his  trembling  little  descendant,  as  she  faltered 
out: 

"There's  one." 

"Who?"  asked  Toledo,  before  he  could  raise  his  eyes. 

But  though  Miss  Brown  answered  not  a  word,  he  did 
not  repeat  his  question,  for  such  a  rare  crimson  came  into 
the  little  teacher's  face,  that  he  hid  it  away  in  his  breast^ 
and  acted  as  if  he  would  never  let  it  out  again. 

Another  knock  at  the  door. 

Toledo  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  Miss  Brown,  hastily 
smoothing  back  her  hair,  opened  the  door,  and  again  saw 
the  judge. 

"I  jest  dropped  back  to  say "  commenced  the  judge, 

when  his  eye  fell  upon  Toledo. 

He  darted  a  quick  glance"  at  the  teacher,  comprehended 
the  situation  at  once,  and  with  a  loud  shout  of  "  Out  of  his 
misery,  by  thunder  ! "  started  on  a  run  to  carry  the  news  to 
the  saloon. 

*  -Sf  #  -Jr  -3f  •#  * 

Miss  Brown  completed  her  term,  and  then  the  minister, 


26    "  MADE  FROM  GOLD  WASHED  BY  HULDAH  BROWN. 

who  was  on  the  local  Board,  was  called  in  to  formally  make 
her  tutor  for  life  to  a  larger  pupil.  Lecomte,  with  true 
French  gallantry,  insisted  on  being  groomsman,  and  the 
judge  gave  away  the  bride.  The  groom,  who  gave  a  name 
very  different  from  any  ever  heard  at  the  Flat,  placed  on  his 
bride's  finger  a  ring,  inscribed  within,  "Made  from  gold 
washed  by  Huldah  Brown."  The  little  teacher  has 
increased  the  number  of  her  pupils  by  several,  and  her 
latest  one  calls  her  grandma. 


iF^ 


JIM    HOCKSON'S    EEVENGE. 
L 

don't  say?" 

"  I  do  though." 

"Waal,  I  never." 

"Nuther  did  I— adzackly." 

"Don't  be  provokin',  Ephr'm — what  makes  you  talk  in 
that  dou'fle  way?" 

"  Wa'al,  ma,  the  world  hain't  all  squeezed  into  this  yere 
little  town  of  Crankett.  I've  been  elsewheres,  some,  an'  I've 
seed  some  funny  things,  and  likewise  some  that  wuzn't  so 
funny  ez  they  might  be." 

"  P'r'aps  ye  hev,  but  ye  needn't  allus  be  a-settin'  other 
folks  down.  Mebbe  Crankett  ain't  the  whole  world,  but  it's 
seed  that  awful  case  of  Molly  Capins,  and  the  shipwreck  of 
thirty-four,  when  the  awful  nor'easter  wuz,  an' " 

"Wa'al,  wa'al,  ma— don't  let's  fight  'bout  it,"  said  Ephr'm, 
with  a  sigh,  as  he  tenderly  scraped  down  a  new  ax-helve 
with  a  piece  of  glass,  while  his  wife  made  the  churn-dasher 
hurry  up  and  down  as  if  the  innocent  cream  was  Ephr'm's 
"back,  and  she  was  avenging  thereon  Ephr'm's  insults  to 
Crankett  and  its  people. 

Deacon  Ephraim  Crankett  was  a  descendant  of  the 
founder  of  the  village,  and  although  now  a  sixty-year  old 
farmer,  he  had  in  his  lifetime  seen  considerable  of  the 
world.  He  had  been  to  the  fishing-banks  a  dozen  times, 
been  whaling  twice,  had  carried  a  cargo  of  wheat  up  the 
Mediterranean,  and  had  been  second  officer  of  a  ship  which 


28  DEACON  CRANKETT'S  TRAVELS. 

had  picked  up  a  miscellaneous  cargo  in  the  heathen  ports 

of  Eastern  Asia. 

He  had  picked  up  a  great  many  ideas,  too,  wherever  he 


JIM  HOCKSON'S  REVENGE.  — "  HE  HELD  IT  UNDER  THE  LIGHT,  AND 
EXAMINED  IT  CLOSELY." 

had  been,  and  his  wife  was  immensely  proud  of  him  and 
them,  whenever  she  could  compare  them  with  the  men  and 
ideas  which  existed  at  Crankett;  but  when  Ephr'm  displayed 


"MILLICENT  AIN'T  A  CHRISTIAN  NAME."  29 

his  memories  and  knowledge  to  her  alone — oh,  that  was  a 
very  different  thing. 

"Anyhow,"  resumed  Mrs.  Crankett,  raising  the  lid  of  the 
churn  to  see  if  there  were  any  signs  of  butter,  "  it's  an  ever- 
lastin'  shame.  Jim  Hockson's  a  young  feller  in  good 
standin'  in  the  Church,  an'  Millie  Botayne's  an  unbeliever — 
they  say  her  father's  a  reg'lar  infidel." 

"  Easy,  ma,  easy,"  gently  remonstrated  Ephr'm.  "  When 
he  seed  you  lookin'  at  his  pet  rose-bush  on  yer  way  to 
church  las'  Sunday,  didn't  he  hurry  an'  pull  two  or  three  an' 
han'  'em  to  ye?" 

"  Yes,  an'  what  did  he  hev'  in  t'other  han'  ? — a  Boasting 
paper,  an'  not  a  Sunday  one,  nuther  !  Millicent  ain't  a 
Christian  name,  nohow  ye  can  fix  it — it  amounts  to  jest 
'bout's  much  ez  she  does,  an'  that's  nothing.  She's  got  a 
soft  face,  an'  purty  hair — ef  it's  all  her  own,  which  I  power- 
fully doubt — an'  after  that  ther's  no  thin'  to  her.  She's  never 
been  to  sewin'  meetiii',  an'  she's  off  a  boatin'  with  that  New 
York  chap  every  Saturday  afternoon,  instead  of  goin'  to  the 
young  people's  prayer-meetin's." 

"  She's  most  supported  Sam  Hansom's  wife  an'  young 
uns  since  Sam's  smack  was  lost,"  suggested  Ephr'm. 

"  That's  you,  Deac'n  Crankett,"  replied  his  wife,  "always 
stick  up  for  sinners.  P'r'aps  you'd  make  better  use  of  your 
time  ef  you'd  examine  yer  own  evidences." 

"Wa'al,  wife,"  said  the  deacon,  "she's  engaged  to  that 
New  York  feller,  ez  you  call  Mr.  Brown,  so  there's  no  dan- 
ger of  Jim  beiii'  oiiequally  yoked  with  an  onbeliever.  An'  I 
wish  her  well,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart." 

"  /  don't,"  cried  Mrs.  Crankett,  giving  the  dasher  a 
vicious  push,  which  sent  the  cream  flying  frantically  up  to 
the  top  of  the  churn  ;  "  I  hope  he'll  turn  out  bad,  an'  her 
pride  '11  be  tuk  down  ez 

The  deacon  had  been  long  enough  at  sea  to  know  the 
nigns  of  a  long  storm,  and  to  know  that  prudence  suggested 
-a  prompt  sailing  out  of  the  course  of  such  a  storm,  when 
possible ;  so  he  started  for  the  door,  carrying  the  glass  and 


30  "BROWN — THE  NEW  YORK  CHAP. 

ax-helve  with  him.  Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  a  female 
figure  ran  so  violently  against  the  ax-helve,  that  the  said 
figure  was  instantly  tumbled  to  the  floor,  and  seemed  an 
irregular  mass  of  faded  pink  calico,  and  subdued  plaid 
shawl. 

"  Miss  Peekin  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Crankett,  dropping  the 
churn-dasher  and  opening  her  eyes. 

"  Like  to  ha'  not  been,"  whined  the  figure,  slowly  arising 
and  giving  the  offending  ax-helve  a  glance  which  would  have 
set  it  on  fire  had  it  not  been  of  green  hickory ;  "  but — liev  you 
heerd?" 

"What?"  asked  Mrs.  Crankett,  hastily  setting  a  chair  for 
the  newcomer,  while  Ephr'm,  deacon  and  sixty  though  he 
was,  paused  in  his  almost  completed  exit. 

"Hes  gone  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Peekin. 

"  Oh,  I  heerd  Jim  hed  gone  to  Calif  or 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Miss  Peekin,  contemptuously ;  "  that  was 
days  ago !  I  mean  Brown — the  New  York  chap — Millie 
Botayne's  lover ! " 

"  Ye  don't?" 

"  But  I  do  ;  an'  what's  more,  he  had  to.  Ther  wuz  men 
come  after  him  in  the  nighttime,  but  he  must  hev  heard 
'em,  fur  they  didn't  find  him  in  his  room,  an'  this  mornin' 
they  found  that  his  sailboat  was  gone,  too.  An'  what's 
more,  ther's  a  printed  notice  up  about  him,  an'  he's  a 
defaulter,  and  there's  five  thousand  dollars  for  whoever 
catches  him,  an'  he's  stole  tiventy-five,  an'  he's  all  described 
in  the  notice,  as  p'ticular  as  if  he  was  a  full-blood  Alderney 
cow." 

"  Poor  fellow,"  sighed  the  deacon,  for  which  interruption 
he  received  a  withering  glance  from  Miss  Peekin. 

"They  say  Millie's  a  goin'  on  awful,  and  that  she  sez- 
she'll  marry  him  now  if  he'll  come  back.  But  it  ain't  likely 
he'll  be  such  a  fool ;  now  he's  got  so  much  money,  he  don't 
need  hern.  Beckon  her  an'  her  father  won't  be  so  high  an* 
mighty  an'  stuck  up  now.  It's  powerful  discouragin'  to  the 
righteous  to  see  the  ungodly  flourishin'  so,  an'  a-rollin'  in 


JIM  HOCKSON'S  FIRST  LOVE.  31 

ther  wealth,  when  ther  betters  has  to  be  on  needles  all  year 
fur  fear  the  next  mack'ril  catch  won't  'mount  to  much.  The 
idee  of  her  bein'  willin'  to  marry  a  defaulter !  I  can't 
understand  it." 

"  Poor  girl ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Crankett,  wiping  one  eye  with 
the  corner  of  her  apron.  "  I'd  do  it  myself,  ef  I  was  her  ?  " 

The  deacon  dropped  the  ax-helve,  and  gave  his  wife  a 
tender  kiss  on  each  eye. 

II. 

PERHAPS  Mr.  Darwin  can  tell  inquirers  why,  out  of  very 
common  origin,  there  occasionally  spring  beings  who  are 
very  decided  improvements  on  their  progenitors ;  but  we 
are  only  able  to  state  that  Jim  Hockson  was  one  of  these 
superior  beings,  and  was  himself  fully  aware  of  the  fact.  Not 
that  he  was  conceited  at  all,  for  he  was  not,  but  he  could 
not  help  seeing  what  every  one  else  saw  and  acknowledged. 

Every  one  liked  him,  for  he  was  always  kind  in  word  and 
action,  and  every  one  was  glad  to  be  Jim  Hockson' s  friend ; 
but  somehow  Jim  seemed  to  consider  himself  his  best 
company. 

His  mackerel  lines  were  worked  as  briskly  as  any  others 
when  the  fish  were  biting ;  but  when  the  fish  were  gone,  he 
would  lean  idly  on  the  rail,  and  stare  at  the  waves  and  clouds ; 
he  could  work  a  cranberry-bog  so  beautifully  that  the 
people  for  miles  around  came  to  look  on  and  take  lessons ; 
yet,  when  the  siin  tried  to  hide  in  the  evening  behind  a 
ragged  row  of  trees  on  a  ridge  beyond  Jim's  cranberry- 
patch,  he  would  lean  on  his  spade,  and  gaze  until  everything 
about  him  seemed  yellow. 

He  read  the  Bible  incessantly,  yet  offsnded  alike  the 
pious  saints  and  critical  sinners  by  never  preaching  or 
exhorting.  And  out  of  everything  Jim  Hockson  seemed  to 
extract  what  it  contained  of  the  ideal  and  the  beautiful ;  and 
when  he  saw  Millicent  Botayne,  he  straightway  adored  the 
first  woman  he  had  met  who  was  alike  beautiful,  intelligent 
and  refined.  Miss  Millie,  being  human,  was  pleased  by  the 


32  "  WE    ATT,    SWEAR    BY    HIM,    WE   DO.  ' 

admiration  of  the  handsome,  manly  fellow  who  seemed  so  far 
the  superior  of  the  men  of  his  class;  but  when,  in  his 
honest  simplicity,  he  told  her  that  he  loved  her,  she  declined 
his  further  attentions  in  a  manner  which,  though  very  deli- 
cate and  kind,  opened  Jim's  blue  eyes  to  some  sad  things  he 
liad  never  seen  before. 

He  neither  got  drunk,  nor  threatened  to  kill  himself,  nor 
married  the  first  silly  girl  he  met;  but  he  sensibly  left  the 
place  where  he  had  suffered  so  greatly,  and,  in  a  sort  of  sad 
daze,  he  hurried  off  to  hide  himself  in  the  newly  discovered 
gold-fields  of  California.  Perhaps  he  had  suddenly  learned 
certain  properties  of  gold  which  were  heretofore  unknown 
to  him;  at  any  rate,  it  was  soon  understood  at  Spanish 
Stake,  where  he  had  located  himself,  that  Jim  Hockson  got 
out  more  gold  per  week  than  any  man  in  camp,  and  that  it 
all  went  to  San  Francisco. 

"  Kind  of  a  mean  cuss,  I  reckon,"  remarked  a  newcomer, 
one  day  at  the  saloon,  when  Jim  alone,  of  the  crowd  present, 
declined  to  drink  with  him. 

"  Not  any ! "  replied  Colonel  Two,  so  called  because  he 
had  two  eyes,  while  another  colonel  in  the  camp  had  but 
one.  "  An'  it's  good  for  you,  stranger,"  continued  the 
colonel,  "  that  you  ain't  been  long  in  camp,  else  some  of  the 
boys  'ud  put  a  hole  through  you  for  sayin'  anything  'gainst 
Jim;  for  we  all  swear  by  him,  we  do.  He  don't  carry 
shootm'-irons,  but  no  feller  in  camp  dares  to  tackle  him ;  he 
don't  cuss  nobody,  "hut  ev'rybody  does  just  as  he  asks  'em  to. 
As  to  drinkin',  why,  I'd  swear  off  myself,  ef  'twud  make  me 
hold  a  candle  to  him.  Went  to  old  Bermuda  t'other  day, 
when  he  was  ravin'  tight  and  layin'  for  Butcher  Pete  with  a 
shootin'-iron,  an'  he  actilly  talked  Bermuda  into  soakin'  his 
head  an'  turnin'  in — ev'rybody  else  was  afeared  to  go  nigh 
old  Bermuda  that  day." 

The  newcomer  seemed  gratified  to  learn  that  Jim  was  so 

peaceable  a  man— that  was  the  natural  supposition,  at  least 

—for  he  forthwith  cultivated  Jim  with  considerable  assiduity, 

and  being,  it  was  evident,  a  man  of  considerable  taste  and 


"GIT!   i  B'LIEVE  IN  THE  GOLDEN  KULE,  i  DO  I"       33 

experience,  Jim  soon  found  his  companionship  very  agree- 
able, and  he  lavished  upon  his  new  acquaintance,  who  had 
been  nicknamed  Tarpaulin,  the  many  kind  and  thoughtful 
attentions  which  had  endeared  Jim  to  the  other  miners. 

The  two  men  lived  in  the  same  hut,  staked  claims 
adjoining  each  other,  and  Tarpaulin,  who  had  been  thin  and 
nervous-looking  when  he  first  came  to  camp,  began  to  grow 
peaceable  and  plump  under  Jim's  influence. 

One  night,  as  Jim  and  Tarpaulin  lay  chatting  before  a 
fire  in  their  hut,  they  heard  a  thin,  wiry  voice  in  the  next 
hut  inquiring : 

"  Anybody  in  this  camp  look  like  this  ?  " 

Tarpaulin  started. 

"  That's  a  funny  question,"  said  he ;  "  let's  see  who  and 
what  the  fellow  is." 

And  then  Tarpaulin  started  for  the  next  hut.  Jiin 
waited  some  time,  and  hearing  low  voices  in  earnest  conver- 
sation, went  next  door  himself. 

Tarpaulin  was  not  there,  but  two  small,  thin,  sharp-eyed 
men  were  there,  displaying  an  old-fashioned  daguerreotype 
of  a  handsome-looking  young  man,  dressed  in  the  latest 
New  York  style ;  and  more  than  this  Jim  did  not  notice. 

"Don't  know  him,  mister,"  said  Colonel  Two,  who 
happened  to  be  the  owner  of  the  hut.  "  Besides  ef,  as  is 
most  likely,  he's  growed  long  hair  an'  a  beard  since  he  leit 
the  States,  his  own  mother  wouldn't  know  him  from  George 
Washington.  Brother  o'  yourn  ?  " 

"No,"  said  one  of  the  thin  men;  "he's — well,  the  fact  is, 
we'll  give  a  thousand  dollars  to  any  one  who'll  find  him  for 
us  in  twenty-four  hours." 

"Deppity  sheriffs?"  asked  the  colonel,  retiring  some- 
what hastily  under  his  blankets. 

"About  the  same  thing,"  said  one  of  the  thin  men,  with 
a  sickly  smile. 

"Git!"  roared  the  colonel,  suddenly  springing  from  his 
bed,  and  cocking  his  revolver.  "  I  b'lieve  in  the  Golden 
Kule,  /do!"  8 


34  JIM    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY. 

The  detectives,  with  the  fine  instinct  peculiar  to  their 
profession,  rightly  construed  the  colonel's  action  as  a  hint, 
and  withdrew,  and  Jim  retired  to  his  own  hut,  and  fell 
asleep  while  waiting  for  his  partner. 

Morning  came,  but  no  Tarpaulin;  dinner-time  arrived, but 
Jim  ate  alone,  and  was  rather  blue.  He  loved  a  sociable  chat, 
and  of  late  Tarpaulin  had  been  almost  his  sole  companion. 

Evening  came,  but  Tarpaulin  came  not. 

Jim  couldn't  abide  the  saloon  for  a  whole  evening,  so  he 
lit  a  candle  in  his  own  hut,  and  attempted  to  read. 

Tarpaulin  was  a  lover  of  newspapers — it  seemed  to  Jim 
he  received  more  papers  than  all  the  remaining  miners  put 
together. 

Jim  thought  he  would  read  some  of  these  same  papers, 
and  unrolled  Tarpaulin's  blankets  to  find  them,  when  out 
fell  a  picture-case,  opening  as  it  fell.  Jim  was  about  to 
close  it  again,  when  he  suddenly  started,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Millicent  Botayne  !  " 

He  held  it  under  the  light,  and  examined  it  closely. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  identity — there  were  the 
same  exquisite  features  which,  a  few  months  before,  had 
opened  to  Jim  Hockson  a  new  world  of  beauty,  and  had 
then,  with  a  sweet  yet  sad  smile,  knocked  down  all  his  fair 
castles,  and  destroyed  all  his  exquisite  pictures. 

Strange  that  it  should  appear  to  him  now,  and  so  unex- 
pectedly, but  stranger  did  it  seem  to  Jim  that  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  case  should  be  a  portrait  which  was  a 
duplicate  of  the  one  shown  by  the  detectives  ! 

"  That  rascal  Brown ! "  exclaimed  Jim.  "  So  he  succeeded 
in  getting  her,  did  he  ?  But  I  shouldn't  call  him  names  ; 
he  had  as  much  right  to  make  love  to  her  as  I.  God  grant 
he  may  make  her  happy !  And  he  is  probably  a  very  fine 
fellow — must  be,  by  his  looks." 

Suddenly  Jim  started,  as  if  shocked  by  an  electric 
battery.  Hiding  all  the  hair  and  beard  of  the  portrait,  he 
stared  at  it  a  moment,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Tarpaulin  I " 


GOIN'   BACK    ON    A    PAKDNER.  35 

III. 

"  BOTH  gone  ! "  exclaimed  Colonel  Two,  hurrying  into 
the  saloon,  at  noon. 

"Both  gone  ?"  echoed  two  or  three  men. 
"  Yes,"   said  the   colonel ;    "  and  the   queerest  thing  is,, 
they  left  ev'rything  behind — every  darned  thing  !     I  never 
did  see  such  a  stampede  afore — /didn't!    Nobody's  got  any 
idee  of  whar  they  be,  nor  what  it's  'bout  neither." 

"  Don't  be  too  sartain,  colonel ! "  piped  Weasel,  a  self- 
contained  mite  of  a  fellow,  who  was  still  at  work  upon  his 
glass,  filled  at  the  last  general  treat,  although  every  one 
else  had  finished  so  long  ago  that  they  were  growing  thirstv 
again — "don't  be  too  sartain.  Them  detectives  bunked  at 
my  shanty  last  night." 

"  The  deuce  they  did ! "  cried  the  colonel.  "  Good  tho 
rest  of  us  didn't  know  it." 

"Well,"  said  Weasel,  moving  his  glass  in  graceful 
circles,  to  be  sure  that  all  the  sugar  dissolved,  "  I  dunno. 
It's  a  respectable  business,  an'  I  wanted  to  have  a  good 
look  at  'em." 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  Jim  and  Tarpaulin  ? '" 
look  at  demanded  the  colonel,  fiercely. 

"  Wait,  and  I'll  tell  you,"  replied  Weasel,  provokingly,. 
taking  a  leisurely  sip  at  his  glass.  "Jim  come  down  to  see 

'em " 

"What?"  cried  the  colonel. 

"  Aif  told  'em  he  knew  their  man,  an'  would  help  find 
him,"  continued  Weasel.  "  They  offered  him  the  thousand 
dollars — 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  oh,  Lord  !"  groaned  the  colonel ;  "  who's  a 
feller  to  trust  in  this  world !  The  idee  of  Jim  goiii'  back  on 
a  pardner  fur  a  thousand!  I  wouldn't  hev  b'lieved  he'd 
a-done  it  fur  a  million  ! " 

"An'  he  told  'em  he'd  cram  it  down  their  throats  if  they 
mentioned  it  again." 

"Bully!      Hooray    fur     Jim!"    shouted     the    colonel. 


36  EXCITEMENT    IN    THE    CAMP. 

"  What'll  yer  take,  fellers  ?    Fill  high !    Here's  to  Jim  !  the 
feller  that  b'lieves  his  friend's  innercent ! " 

The  colonel  looked  thoughtfully  into  his  glass,  and 
remarked,  as  if  to  his  own  reflection  therein,  "  Ain't  many 
such  men  here  nur  nowhars  else ! "  after  which  he  drank  the 
toast  himself. 

"  But  that  don't  explain  what  Tarpaulin  went  fur,"  said 
the  colonel,  suddenly. 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  said  the  exasperating  "Weasel,  shutting 
his  thin  lips  so  tightly  that  it  was  hard  to  see  where  his 
mouth  was. 

"  What  ?"  cried  the  colonel.  "  'Twould  take  a  four- horse 
corkscrew  to  get  anything  out  o'  you,  you  dried-up  little 
scoundrel ! " 

"  Why ! "  replied  Weasel,  greatly  pleased  by  the  colonel's 
compliment,  "after  what  you  said  about  hair  and  beard 
hidin'  a  man,  one  of  them  fellers  cut  a  card  an'  held  it 
over  the  picture,  so  as  to  hide  hair  an'  chin.  The  forehead 
an'  face  an'  nose  an'  ears  wuz  Tarpaulin's,  an'  nobody  else's." 

"  Lightning's  blazes  ! "  roared  the  colonel,  "  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
why,  Tarpaulin  hisself  came  into  my  shanty,  an'  looked  at 
the  pictur',  an'  talked  to  them  'bout  it !  Trot  out  yer  glass- 
ware, barkeeper — got  to  drink  to  a  feller  that's  ez  cool  ez  all 
that!" 

The  boys  drank  with  the  colonel,  but  they  were  too 
severely  astonished  to  enjoy  the  liquor  particularly.  In  fact, 
old  Bermuda,  who  had  never  taken  anything  but  plain  rye, 
drank  three  fingers  of  claret  that  day,  and  did  not  know  of 
it  until  told. 

The  colonel's  mind  was  unusually  excited.  It  seemed 
to  him  there  were  a  number  of  probabilities  upon  which  to 
hang  bets.  He  walked  outside,  that  his  meditation  might 
be  undisturbed,  but  in  an  instant  he  was  back,  crying  : 

"Lady  comin' !" 

Shirt-sleeves  and  trowsers-legs  were  hurriedly  rolled 
down,  shirt-collars  were  buttoned,  hats  were  dusted,  and 
then  each  man  went  leisurely  out,  with  the  air  of  having 


c< 


BEEN    HERE,   BUT    GONE."  87 


merely  happened  to  leave  the  saloon — an \  air  which  imposed 
upon  no  disinterested  observer. 

Coming  up  the  trail  beside  the  creek  were  a  middle-aged 
gentleman  and  a  young  lady,  both  on  horseback. 

The  gentleman's  dress  and  general  style  plainly  indi- 
cated that  he  was  not  a  miner,  nor  a  storekeeper,  nor  a 
barkeeper ;  while  it  was  equally  evident  that  the  lady  was 
neither  a  washerwoman,  a  cook,  nor  a  member  of  either  of 
the  very  few  professions  which  were  open  to  ladies  on  the 
Pacific  Coast  in  those  days. 

This  much  every  miner  quickly  decided  for  himself ; 
but  after  so  deciding,  each  miner  reached  the  uttermost 
extremity  of  his  wits,  and  devoted  himself  to  staring. 

The  couple  reined  up  before  the  saloon,  and  the  gentle- 
man drew  something  small  and  black  and  square  from  his 
pocket. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "we  are  looking  for  an  old  friend 
of  ours,  and  have  traced  him  to  this  camp.  We  scarcely 
know  whether  it  would  be  any  use  to  give  his  name,  but 
here  is  his  picture.  Can  any  one  remember  having  seen  the 
person  here  ?  " 

Every  one  looked  toward  Colonel  Two,  he  being  the  man 
with  the  most  practical  tongue  in  camp. 

The  colonel  took  the  picture,  and  Weasel  slipped  up 
behind  him  and  looked  over  his  shoulder.  The  colonel 
looked  at  the  picture,  abruptly  handed  it  back,  looked  at 
the  young  lady,  and  then  gazed  vacantly  into  space,  and 
seemed  very  uncomfortable. 

"  Been  here,  but  gone,"  said  the  colonel,  at  length. 

"Where  did  he  go,  do  you  know  ?"  asked  the  gentleman, 
while  the  lady's  eyes  dropped  wearily. 

"Nobody  knows — only  been  gone  a  day  or  two,"  replied 
the  colonel. 

The  colonel  had  a  well-developed  heart,  and,  relying 
on  what  he  considered  the  correct  idea  of  Jim  Hockson's 
mission,  ventured  to  say  : 

".He'll  be  back  in  a  day  or  two—left  all  his  things.". 


„ 

38  "TRUST    JIM    HOCKSON. 

Suddenly  Weasel  raised  liis  diminutive  voice,  and  said : 

"  The  detec— 

The  determined  grip  of  the  colonel's  hand  interrupted  tho 
communication  which  Weasel  attempted  to  make,  and  the 
colonel  hastily  remarked : 

"Ther's  a  feller  gone  for  him  that's  sure  to  fetch  him 
Tmck." 

«  Who — who  is  it?"  asked  the  young  lady,  hesitatingly. 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  said  the  colonel,  "  as  yer  father — I  s'pose, 
leastways — said,  'tain't  much  use  to  give  names  in  this  part 
of  the  world,  but  the  name  he's  goin'  by  is  Jim  Hockson." 

The  young  lady  screamed  and  fell. 

IV. 

"  WHETHER  to  do  it  or  not,  is  what  bothers  me,"  solilo- 
quized Mr.  Weasel,  pacing  meditatively  in  front  of  the 
saloon.  "The  old  man  offers  me  two  thousand  to  get 
Tarpaulin  away  from  them  fellers,  and  let  him  know  where 
to  meet  him  an'  his  daughter.  Two  thousand's  a  pretty 
penny,  an'  the  bein'  picked  out  by  so  smart  a  lookin'  man  is 
£,n  honor  big  enough  to  set  off  agin'  a  few  hundred  dollars 
more.  But,  on  t'other  hand,  if  they  catch  him,  they'll  come 
back  here,  an'  who  knows  but  what  they'll  want  the  old 
man  an'  girl  as  bad  as  they  wanted  Tarpaulin  ?  A  bird  in 
the  hand's  worth  two  in  the  bush — better  keep  near  the 
ones  I  got,  I  reckon.  Here  they  come  now ! " 

As  Mr.  Weasel  concluded  his  dialogue  with  himself,  Mr. 
Botayne  and  Millicent  approached,  in  company  with  the 
oolonel. 

The  colonel  stopped  just  beyond  the  saloon,  and  said  : 

"  Now,  here's  your  best  p'int — you  can  see  the  hill-trail 
fur  better'n  five  miles,  an'  the  crick  fur  a  mile  an'  a  half. 
I'll  jest  hev  a  shed  knocked  together  to  keep  the  lady  from 
the  sun.  An'  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  both  of  yer — trust  Jim 
Hockson;  nobody  in  the  mines  ever  knowed  him  to  fail." 

Millicent  shivered  at  the  mention  of  Jim's  name,  and  the 


THE    DETECTIVES'   LUCK..  39 

colonel,  unhappily  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  her  agitation, 
tried  to  divert  her  mind  from  the  chances  of  harm  to  Tar- 
paulin by  growing  eloquent  in  praise  of  Jim  Hockson. 

Suddenly  the  colonel  himself  started  a.nd  grew  pale.  He 
quickly  recovered  himself,  however,  and,  with  the  delicacy 
of  a  gentleman,  walked  rapidly  away,  as  Millicent  and  her 
father  looked  in  the  direction  from  which  the  colonel's 
surprise  came. 

There,  handcuffed,  with  beard  and  hair  singed  close, 
clothes  torn  and  face  bleeding,  walked  Ethelbert  Brown 
between  the  two  detectives,  while  Jim  Hockson,  with  head 
bowed  and  hands  behind  his'  back,  followed  a  few  yards 
behind. 

Some  one  gave  the  word  at  the  saloon,  and  the  boys 
hurried  out,  but  the  colonel  pointed  significantly  toward 
the  sorrowful  couple,  while  with  the  other  hand  he  pointed 
an  ugly  pistol,  cocked,  toward  the  saloon. 

Millicent  hurried  from  her  father's  side,  and  flung  her 
arms  about  the  sorry  figure  of  her  lover ;  and  Jim  Hockson, 
finding  his  pathway  impeded,  raised  his  eyes,  and  then 
blushed  violently. 

"  Sorry  for  you,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  detectives,  touching 
his  hat  to  Mr.  Botayne,  "  but  can't  help  being  glad  we  got  a 
day  ahead  of  you." 

"  What  amount  of  money  will  buy  your  prisoner  ? " 
demanded  the  unhappy  father. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir — very  sorry,  but — we'd  be  compound- 
ing felony  in  that  case,  you  know,"  replied  one  of  the  officers, 
gazing  with  genuine  pity  on  the  weeping  girl. 

"Don't  worry,"  whispered  the  colonel  in  Mr.  Botayne's 
ear ;  "  we'll  clean  out  them  two  fellers,  and  let  Tarpaulin  loose 
again.  Ev'ry  feller  come  here  for  something  darn  it ! "  with 
which  sympathizing  expression  the  colonel  again  retired. 

"I'll  give  you  as  much  as  the  bank  offers,"  said  Mr. 
Botayne. 

"Very  sorry,  sir;  but  can't,"  replied  the  detective. 
""We'd  be  just  as  bad  then  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  as  before. 


40  BEVENGE    AT    LAST. 

Keward,  five  thousand,  bank  lose  twenty-five  thousand  — 
thirty  thousand,  in  odd  figures,  is  least  we  could  take.  Even 
that  wouldn't  be  reg'lar ;  but  it  would  be  a  safe  risk,  seeing 
all  the  bank  cares  for's  to  get  its  money  back." 

Mr.  Botayne  groaned. 

"  We'll  make  it  as  pleasant  as  we  can  for  you,  sir,"  con- 
tinued the  detective,  "  if  you  and  the  lady'll  go  back  on  the 
ship  with  us.  We'll  give  him  the  liberty  of  the  ship  as  soon 
as  we're  well  away  from  land.  We'd  consider  it  our  duty  to 
watch  him,  of  course ;  but  we'd  try  to  do  it  so's  not  to  give 
offense — we've  got  hearts,  though  we  are  in  this  business. 
Hope  you  can  buy  him  clear  when  you  get  home,  sir  ?  " 

"  I've  sacrificed  everything  to  get  here — I  can  never  clear 
him,"  sighed  Mr  Botayne. 

"/can  !"  exclaimed  a  clear,  manly  voice. 

Millicent  raised  her  eyes,  and  for  the  first  time  saw  Jim 
Hockson. 

She  gave  him  a  look  in  which  astonishment,  gratitude 
and  fear  strove  for  the  mastery,  and  he  gave  her  a  straight- 
forward, honest,  respectful  look  in  return. 

The  two  detectives  dropped  their  lower  jaws  alarmingly, 
and  raised  their  eyebrows  to  their  hat-rims. 

"The  bank  at  San  Francisco  has  an  agent  here,"  said 
Jim.  "  Colonel,  won't  you  fetch  him?" 

The  colonel  took  a  lively  double-quick,  and  soon  re- 
turned with  a  business-looking  man. 

"Mr.  Green,"  said  Jim,  "please  tell  me  how  much  I 
have  in  your  bank?" 

The  clerk  looked  over  a  small  book  he  extracted  from 
his  pocket,  and  replied,  briefly  : 

"  Over  two  thousand  ounces." 

"Please  give  these  gentlemen  a  check,  made  whatever 
way  they  like  it,  for  the  equivalent  of  thirty  thousand 
dollars.  I'll  sign  it,"  said  Jim. 

The  clerk  and  one  of  the  detectives  retired  to  an 
adjacent  hut,  and  soon  called  Jim.  Jim  joined  them,  and 
immediately  he  and  the  officer  returned  to' the  prisoner, 


A    THIRTY    THOUSAND    DOLLAR    SERMON.  41 

"It's  all  right,  Maxley,"  said  the  officer  ;•  "  let  him  go." 

The  officer  removed  the  handcuffs,  and  Ethelbert  Brown 
was  free.  His  first  motion  was  to  seize  Jim's  hand. 

"  Hockson,  tell  me  why  you  helped  those  detectives," 
said  he. 

"Kevenge!"  replied  Jim. 

"  For  what  ?  "  cried  Brown,  changing  color. 

"  Gaining  Millie  Botayne's  love,"  replied  Jim. 
.   Brown  looked  at  Millicent,  and  read  the  story  from  her 
face. 

He  turned  toward  Jim  a  wondering  look,  and  asked, 
slowly : 

"  Then,  why  did  you  free  me  ?  " 

"  Because  she  loved  you,"  said  Jim,  and  then  he  walked 
quietly  away. 

Y. 

"  WHY,  Miss  Peekin  ! " 

"It's  a  fact :  Eben  Javash,  that  went  out  better'n  a  year 
ago,  hez  got  back,  and  he  wuz  at  the  next  digging  an'  heerd 
all  about  it.  'T  seems  the  officers  ketched  Brown,  an'  Jim 
Hockson  gave  'em  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  pay  them  an' 
the  bank  too,  and  then  they  let  him  go.  Might's  well  ha 
kept  his  money,  though,  seein'  Brown  washed  overboard  on 
the  way  back. 

"  I  ain't  a  bettin'  man,"  said  the  deacon,  "  but  I'd  risk 
our  white-faced  cow  that  them  thirty  thousand  dollars 
preached  the  greatest  sermon  ever  heerd  in  Californy — ur  in 
Orankett  either." 

Miss  Peekin  threw  a  withering  glance  at  the  deacon ;  it 
was  good  he  was  not  on  trial  for  heresy,  with  Miss  Peekin 
for  judge  and  jury.  She  continued  : 

"  Eben.  says  there  was  a  fellow  named  Weasel  that  hid 
close  by,  an'  heerd  all  'twas  said,  and  when  he  went  to  the 
rum-shop  an'  told  the  miners,  they  hooray'd  for  Jim  ez  ef 
they  wuz  mad.  Just  like  them  crazy  fellers — they  hain't  no 
idee  when  money's  wasted." 


42  A    POWERFUL    CONVERSION. 

"  The  Lord  waste  all  the  money  in  the  world  that  way ! " 
devoutly  exclaimed  the  deacon. 

"  An'  that  feller  Weasel,"  continued  Miss  Peekin,  giving 
the  deacon's  pet  cat  a  vicious  kick,  "  though  he'd  always 
been  economical,  an'  never  set  a  bad  example  before  by 
persuadin'  folk  to  be  intemprit,  actilly  drored  a  pistol,  and 
fit  with  a  feller  they  called  Colonel  Two — fit  for  the  chance 
of  askin'  the  crowd  to  drink  to  Jim  Hockson,  an'  then  went 
aroun'  to  all  the  diggins,  tellin'  about  Jim,  an'  wastiii'  his 
money  treatin'  folks  to  drink  good  luck  to  Jim.  Dis — 
graceful ! " 

"  It's  what  I'd  call  a  powerful  conversion,"  remarked  the 
deacon. 

"  But  thers  more,"  said  Miss  Peekin,  with  a  sigh,  and 
yet  with  an  air  of  importance  befitting  the  bearer  of  won- 
derful tidings. 

"What?"  eagerly  asked  Mrs.  Crankett. 

"  Jim's  back,"  said  Miss  Peekin. 

"  Mercy  011  us  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Crankett. 

"  The  Lord  bless  and  prosper  him  ! "  earnestly  exclaimed 
the  deacon. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Peekin,  with  a  disgusted  look,  "  I 
s'pose  He  will,  from  the  looks  o'  things ;  fur  Eben  sez  that 
when  Weasel  told  the  fellers  how  it  all  wuz,  they  went  to 
work  an'  put  gold  dust  in  a  box  fur  Jim  till  ther  wus  more 
than  he  giv  fur  Brown,  an'  fellers  from  all  round's  been 
sendin'  him  dust  ever  since.  He's  mighty  sight  the  richest 
man  anywhere  near  this  town." 

"Good— bless  the  Lord!"  said  the  deacon,  with  delight. 

"Ye  hain't  heerd  all  of  it,  though,"  continued  Miss 
Peekin,  with  a  funereal  countenance.  "  They're  going  to  be 
married." 

"  Sakes  alive  ! "  gasps  Mrs.  Crankett. 

'It's  so,"  said  Miss  Peekin  ;  "an'  they  say  she  sent  for 
him,  by  way  of  the  Isthmus,  an'  he  come  back  that  way. 
Bad  enough  to  marry  him,  when  poor  Brown  hain't  been 
dead  six  months,  but  to  send  for  him '' 


SHOCKING     MISS    PEEKIN. 


43 


"  Wuz  a  real  noble,  big-hearted,  womanly  thing  to  do," 
declared  Mrs.  Crankett,  snatching  off  her  spectacles ;  "  an' 
I'd  hev  done  it  myself  ef  I'd*been  her." 

The  deacon  gave  his  old  wife  an  enthusiastic  hug ;  upon 
seeing  which  Miss  Peekin  hastily  departed,  with  a  severely 
shocked  expression  of  countenance  and  a  nose  aspiring 
heavenward. 


MAKING  HIS  MARK. 

BLACK  HAT  was,  in  1851,  about  as  peaceful  and  well- 
regulated  a  village  as  could  be  found  in  the  United 
States. 

It  was  not  on  the  road  to  any  place,  so  it  grew  but  little  ; 
the  dirt  paid  steadily  and  well,  so  but  few  of  the  original 
settlers  went  away. 

The  march  of  civilization,  with  its  churches  and  circuses, 
had  not  yet  reached  Black  Hat ;  marriages  never  convulsed 
the  settlement  with  the  pet  excitement  of  villages  generally, 
and  the  inhabitants  were  never  arrayed  at  swords'  point  by 
either  religion,  politics  or  newspapers. 

To  be  sure,  the  boys  gambled  every  evening  and  all  day 
Sunday ;  but  a  famous  player,  who  once  passed  that  way  on 
a  prospecting-trip,  declared  that  even  a  preacher  would  get 
sick  of  such  playing ;  for,  as  everybody  knew  everybody 
else's  game,  and  as  all  men  who  played  other  than  squarely 
had  long  since  been  required  to  leave,  there  was  an  utter 
absence  of  pistols  at  the  tables. 

Occasional  disagreements  took  place,  to  be  sure — they 
have  been  taking  place,  even  among  the  best  people,  since 
the  days  of  Cain  and  Abel;  but  all  difficulties  at  Black 
Hat  which  did  not  succumb  to  force  of  jaw  were  quietly 
locked  in  the  bosoms  of  the  disputants  until  the  first 
Sunday. 

Sunday,  at  Black  Hat,  orthodoxically  commenced  at 
sunset  on  Saturday,  and  was  piously  extended  through  to 
working-time  on  Monday  morning,  and  during  this  period  of 


SUNDAY    AT    SLACK    HAT.  45 

thirty-six  hours  there  was  submitted  to  arbitrament,  by  knife 
or  pistol,  all  unfinished  rows  of  the  week. 

On  Sunday  was  also  performed  all  of  the  hard  drinking 
at  Black  Hat ;  but  through  the  week  the  inhabitants  worked 
as  steadily  and  lived  as  peacefully  as  if  surrounded  by 
church-steeples,  court-houses  and  jails. 

Whether  owing  to  the  inevitable  visitations  of  the  great 
disturber  of  affairs  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  or  only  in  the 
•due  course  of  that  developement  which  affects  communities 
as  well  as  species,  we  know  not,  but  certain  it  is  that  sud- 
denly the  city  fathers  at  Black  Hat  began  to  wear  thoughtful 
faces  and  wrinkled  brows,  to  indulge  in  unusual  periods  of 
silence,  and  to  drink  and  smoke  as  if  these  consoling  occupa- 
tions were  pursued  more  as  matters  o^  habit  than  of  enjoy- 
ment. 

The  prime  cause  of  the  uneasiness  of  these  good  men  was 
a  red-faced,  red-haired,  red-whiskered  fellow,  who  had  been 
nicknamed  "  Captain,"  on  account  of  the  military  cut  of  the 
whiskers  mentioned  above. 

The  captain  was  quite  a  good  fellow  ;  but  he  was  suffer- 
ing severely  from  "  the  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds  " — 
ambition. 

He  had  gone  West  to  make  a  reputation,  and  so  openly 
did  he  work  for  it  that  no  one  doubted  his  object ;  and  so 
untiring  and  convincing  was  he,  that,  in  two  short  weeks,  he 
had  persuaded  the  weaker  of  the  brethren  at  Black  Hat  that 
things  in  general  were  considerably  out  of  joint.  And  as  a 
little  leaven  leaveneth  the  whole  lump,  every  man  at  Black 
Hat  was  soon  discussing  the  captain's  criticisms,  and  was 
neglecting  the  more  peaceable  matters  of  cards  and  drink, 
which  had  previously  occupied  their  leisure  hours. 

The  captain  was.  always  fully  charged  with  opinions  on 
every  subject,  and  his  eloquent  voice  was  heard  at  length  on 
even  the  smallest  matter  that  interested  the  camp.  One  day 
a  disloyal  miner  remarked  : 

"  Captain's  jaw  is  a  reg'lar  air-trigger ;  reckon  he'll  run 
the  camp  when  Whitey  leaves." 


46  WHITEY'S    EXPLOITS. 

Straightway  a  devout  respecter  of  the  "powers  that  be" 
carried  the  remark  to  "Whitey,  the  chief  of  the  camp. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Whitey,  an  immense  but  Very 
peaceable  and  sensible  fellow,  had  just  been  discussing  with 
some  of  his  adherents  the  probable  designs  of  the  captain, 
and  this  new  report  seemed  to  arrive  just  in  time,  for  Whitey 
instantly  said : 

"  Thar  he  goes  agin,  d'ye  see,  pokin'  his  shovel  in  all 
aroun'.  Now,  ef  the  boys  want  me  to  leave,  they  kin  say  so, 
an'  I'll  go.  'Tain't  the  easiest  claim  in  the  world  to- 
work,  runnin'  this  camp  ain't,  an'  I'll  never  hanker  to  be 
chief  nowhar  else  ;  but  seein'  I've  stuck  to  the  boys,  an' 
seen  'em  through  from  the  fust,  'twouldn't  be  exactly  gent'e- 
maiily,  'pears  to  me." 

And  for  a  moment  Whitey  hid  his  emotions  in  a  tin  cup,, 
from  which  escaped  perfumes  suggesting  the  rye-fields  of 
Kentucky. 

"  Nobody  wants  you  to  go,  Whitey,"  said  Wolverine,  one 
of  the  chief's  most  faithful  supporters.  "  Didn't  yer  kick  that 
New  Hampshire  feller  out  of  camp  when  he  kept  a-sayiii' 
the  saloon  wuz  the  gate  o'  hell?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  chief,  with  a  flush  of  modest  pride,  "  I 
don't  deny  it ;  but  /won't  remind  the  boys  of  it,  ef  they've 
forgot  it." 

"  An'  didn't  yer  go  to  work,"  said  another,  "  when  all  the 
fellers  was  a-askin'  what  was  to  be  done  with  them  Chinesers 
— didn't  yer  just  order  the  boys  to  clean  'em  out  to  wunst?" 

"That  ain't  the  best  thing  yer  dun,  neither!"  exclaimed  a 
third.  "  I  wonder  does  any  of  them  galoots  forgit  how  the 
saloon  got  a-fire  when  ev'rybody  was  asleep — how  the  chief 
turned  out  the  camp,  and  after  the  barkeeper  got  out  the  door, 
how  the  chief  rushed  in  an'  rolled  out  all  three  of  the  barrels, 
and  then  went  dead-bent  fur  the  river  with  his  clothes  all 
a-blazin'  ?  Whar'd  we  hev  been  for  a  couple  of  weeks  ef  it 
hadn't  bin  fur  them  bar'ls  ?" 

The  remembrance  of  this  gallant  act  so  affected  Wol- 
verine, that  he  exclaimed : 


GENERAL    TREATS    RESTRICTED    TO    THREE    PER    DIEM.       47 

"  Whitey,  we'll  stick  to  yer  like  tar-an' -feather,  an'  ef 
cap'n  an'  his  friends  git  troublesome  we'll  jes'  show  'em  the 
trail,  an'  seggest  they're  big  enough  to  git  up  a  concern 
uv  their  own,  instid  of  tryin'  to  steal  somebody  else's." 

The  chief  felt  that  he  was  still  dear  to  the  hearts  of  his 
subjects,  and  so  many  took  pains  that  day  to  renew  their 
allegiance  that  he  grew  magnanimous — in  fact,  when  the 
chief  that  evening  invited  the  boys  to  drink,  he  pushed  his 
own  particular  bottle  to  the  captain — an  attention  as  deli- 
cate as  that  displayed  by  a  clergyman  when  he  invites  into 
his  pulpit  the  minister  of  a  different  creed. 

Still  the  captain  labored.  So  often  did  the  latter  stand 
treat  that  the  barkeeper  suddenly  ran  short  of  liquor,  and 
was  compelled,  for  a  week,  to  restrict  general  treats  to  three 
per  diem  until  he  could  lay  in  a  fresh  stock. 

The  captain  could  hit  corks  and  half-dollars  in  the  air 
almost  every  time,  but  no  opportunity  occurred  in  which  he 
could  exercise  his  markmanship  for  the  benefit  of  the 
camp. 

He  also  told  any  number  of  good  stories,  at  which  the 
boys/  Whitey  included,  laughed  heartily ;  he  sang  jolly 
songs,  with  a  very  fair  tenor  voice,  and  all  the  boys  joined 
in  the  chorus ;  and  he  played  a  banjo  in  style,  which  always 
set  the  boys  to  capering  as  gracefully  as  a  crowd  of  bachelor 
bears. 

But  still  Whitey  remained  in  camp  and  in  office,  and  tho 
captain,  who  was  as  humane  as  he  was  ambitious,  had  no 
idea  of  attempting  to  remove  the  old  chief  by  force. 

On  Monday  night  the  whole  camp  retired  early,  and  slept 
soundly.  Monday  had  at  all  times  a  very  short  evening  at 
Black  Hat,  for  *the  boys  were  generally  weary  after  the 
duties  and  excitements  of  Sunday ;  but  on  this  particular 
Monday  a  slide  had  threatened  on  the  hillside,  and  the  boys 
had  been  hard  at  work  cutting  and  carrying  huge  logs  to 
make  a  break  or  barricade. 

So,  soon  after  supper  they  took  a  drink  or  two,  and 
sprinkled  to  their  several  huts,  and  Black  Hat  was  at  peace> 


48         PERFECT  PEACE  REIGNS  AT  BLACK  HAT. 

There  were  no  dogs  or  cats  to  make  night  hideous — no 
uneasy  roosters  to  be  sounding  alarm  at  unearthly  hours — no 
horrible  policemen  thumping  the  sidewalks  with  clubs — 
no  fashionable  or  dissipated  people  rattling  about  in  car- 


°U  H™  SENSELESS>  AND  CARRIED  HIM  TO  THE  SALOON,  WHERK 
THE  CANDLES  WERE  ALREADY  LIGHTED.  ONE  OF  THE  MINERS,  WHO 
HAD  BEEN  A  DOCTOR,  PROMPTLY  EXAMINED  HIS  BRUISES. 

riages.  Excepting  an  occasional  cough,  or  sneeze,  or 
over-loud  snore,  the  most  perfect  peace  reigned  at  Black 
Hat. 

Suddenly  a  low  but  heavy  rumble,  and  a  trembling  of 


THE    LAND    SLIDE.  49 

ilie  ground,  roused  every  man  in  camp,  and,  rushing  out  of 
their  huts,  the  miners  saw  a  mass  of  stones  and  earth  had 
been  loosened  far  up  the  hillside,  and  were  breaking  over 
the  barricade  in  one  place,  and  coming  down  in  a  perfect 
torrent. 

They  were  fortunately  moving  toward  the  river  on  a  line 
obstructed  by  no  houses,  though  the  hut  of  old  Miller,  who 
was  very  sick,  was  close  to  the  rocky  torrent. 

But  while  they  stared,  a  young  pine-tree,  perhaps  a  foot 
thick,  which  had  been  torn  loose  by  the  rocks  and  brought 
down  by  them,  suddenly  tumbled,  root  first,  over  a  steep  rock, 
a  few  feet  in  front  of  old  Miller's  door.  The  leverage  ex- 
erted by  the  lower  portion  of  the  stem  threw  the  whole  tree 
into  a  vertical  position  for  an  instant ;  then  it  caught  the 
wind,  tottered,  and  finally  fell  directly  on  the  front  of  old 
Miller's  hut,  crushing  in  the  gable  and  a  portion  of  the 
front  door,  and  threatening  the  hut  and  its  unfortunate 
occupant  with  immediate  destruction. 

A  deep  groan  and  many  terrible  oaths  burst  from  the 
boys,  and  then,  with  one  impulse,  they  rushed  to  the  tree 
and  attempted  to  move  it ;  but  it  lay  at  an  angle  of  about 
forty-five  degrees  from  the  horizontal,  its  roots  heavy  with 
dirt,  on  the  ground  in  front  of  the  door,  and  its  top  high  in 
the  air. 

The  boys  could  only  lift  the  lower  portion ;  but  should 
they  do  so,  then  the  hut  would  be  entirely  crushed  by  the 
full  weight  of  the  tree. 

There  was  no  window  through  which  they  could  get 
Miller  out,  and  there  was  no  knowing  how  long  the  frail  hut 
could  resist  the  weight  of  the  tree. 

Suddenly  a  well-known  voice  was  heard  shouting : 
"  Keep  your  head  level,  Miller,  old  chap — we'll  hev  you 
out  of  that  in  no  time.  Hurry  up,  somebody,  and  borrow 
the  barkeeper's  ropes.  While  I'm  cuttin',  throw  a  rope  over 
the  top,  and  when  she  commences  to  go,  haul  all  together 
and  suddenly,  then  'twill  clear  the  hut." 

In  an  instant  later  the  boys  saw,  by  the  bright  moon- 

4 


50  THE    CAPTAIN'S    UNANIMOUS    ELECTION. 

light,  the  captain,  bareheaded,  barefooted,  with  open  shirt, 
standing  on,  the  tree  directly  over  the  crushed  gable,  and 
chopping  with  frantic  rapidity. 

"  Hooray  for  cap'en ! "  shouted  some  one. 

"Hooray!"  replied  the  crowd,  and  a  feeble  "hooray'* 
was  heard  from  between  the  logs  of  old  Miller's  hut. 

Two  or  three  men  came  hurrying  back  with  the  ropes,  and 
one  of  them  was  dexterously  throivn  across  a  branch  of  the 
tree.  Then  the  boys  distributed  themselves  along  both  ends 
of  the  rope. 

"Easy!"  screamed  the  captain.  "Plenty  of  time.  I'll 
give  the  word.  When  I  say,  'Now/  pull  quick  and  all 
together.  I  won't  be  long." 

And  big  chips  flew  in  undiminished  quantity,  while  a 
commendatory  murmur  ran  along  both  lines  of  men,  and 
Whitey,  the  chief,  knelt  with  his  lips  to  one  of  the  chinks  of 
the  hut,  and  assured  old  Miller  that  he  was  perfectly  safe. 

"  Now  !  "  shrieked  the  captain,  suddenly. 

In  his  excitement,  he  stepped  toward  the  top  instead  of 
the  root  of  the  tree ;  in  an  instant  the  top  of  the  tree  was. 
snatched  from  the  hut,  but  it  tossed  the  unfortunate  captain 
into  the  air  as  easily  as  a  sling  tosses  a  stone. 

Every  one  rushed  to  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen.  They 
found  him  senseless,  and  carried  him  to  the  saloon,  where 
the  candles  were  already  lighted.  One  of  the  miners,  who 
had  been  a  doctor,  promptly  examined  his  bruises,  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"  He's  two  or  three  broken  ribs,  that's  all.  It's  a  wonder 
he  didn't  break  every  bone  in  his  body.  He'll  be  around  all 
right  inside  of  a  month." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Whitey,  "I  resign.  All  in  favor  of 
the  cap'en  will  please  say  'I.'  " 

"  I,"  replied  every  one. 

"  I  don't  put  the  noes,"  continued  Whitey,  "  because  I'm 
a  peaceable  man,  and  don't  want  to  hev  to  kick  any  man 
mean  enough  to  vote  no.  Cap'en,  you'r  boss  of  this  camp,, 
and  I'm  yourn  obediently." 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  MARK  A  DEAD  SURE  THING.    *       51 

The  captain  opened  his  eyes  slowly,  and  replied  : 
"  I'm  much  obliged,  boys,  but  I  won't  give  Whitey  the 
trouble.     Doctor's   mistaken — there's   someting  broken  in- 
side, and  I  haven't  got  many  minutes  more  to  live." 

"  Do  yer  best,  cap'en,"  said  the  barkeeper,  encouragingly. 
"  Promise  me  you'll  stay  alive,  and  I'll  go  straight  down  to 
'Frisco,  and  get  you  all  the  champagne  you  can  drink." 

"  You're  very  kind,"  replied  the  captain,  faintly  ;  "  but  I'm 
sent  for,  and  I've  got  to  go.  I've  left  the  East  to  make  my 
mark,  but  I  didn't  expect  to  make  it  in  real  estate.  Whitey, 
I  was  a  fool  for  wanting  to  be  chief  of  Black  Hat,  and  you've 
forgiven  me  like  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian.  It's  getting 
dark — I'm  thirsty — I'm  going — gone  ! " 

The  doctor  felt  the  captain's  wrist,  and  said  : 
"Fact,  gentlemen,  he's  panned  his  last  dirt." 
"  Do  the  honors,  boy s,"  said  the  barkeeper,  placing  glasses 
along  the  bar. 

Each  man  filled  his  glass,  and  all  looked  at  "Whitey. 
"  Boys,"  said  Whitey,  solemnly,  "  ef  the  cap'en  hed 
struck  a  nugget,  good  luck  might  liev  spiled  him ;  ef  he'd  been 
chief  of  Black  Hat,  or  any  other  place,  he  might  hev  got 
shot.  But  he's  made  his  mark,  so  nobody  begrudges  him, 
an'  nobody  can  rub  it  out.  So  here's  to  'the  cap'en's  mark, 
a  dead  sure  thing.'  Bottoms  up." 

The  glasses  were  emptied  in  silence,  and  turned  bottoms 
uppermost  on  the  bar. 

The  boys  were  slowly  dispersing,  when  one,  who  was. 
strongly  suspected  of  having  been  a  Church  member^ 
remarked : 

"  He  was  took  of  a  sudden,  so  he  shouldn't  be  stuck  up." 
Whitey  turned  to  him,  and  replied,  with  some  asperity  : 
"  Young  man,  you'll  be  lucky  ef  you're  ever  stuck  up  as. 
high  as  the  captain." 
And  all  the  boys  understood  what  Whitey  meant. 


CODAGO. 

TWO  o'clock  A.  M.  is  supposed  to  be  a  popular  sleeping 
hour  the  world  over,  and  as  Flatfoot  Bar  was  a  portion 
of  the  terrestrial  sphere,  it  was  but  natural  to  expect  its 
denizens  to  be  in  bed  at  that  hour. 

Yet,  on  a  certain  morning  twenty  years  ago,  when  thero 
was  neither  sickness  nor  a  fashionable  entertainment  to 
excuse  irregular  hours  in  camp,  a  bright  light  streamed  from 
the  only  window  of  Ghagres  Charley's  residence  at  Flatfoot 
Bar,  and  inside  of  the  walls  of  Chagres  Charley's  domicile 
were  half  a  dozen  miners  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 

Flatfoot  Bar  had  never  formally  elected  a  town  com- 
mittee, for  the  half-dozen  men  aforesaid  had  long  ago 
modestly  assumed  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  city 
fathers,  and  so  judicious  had  been  their  conduct.,  that  no  one 
had  ever  expressed  a  desire  for  a  change  in  the  government. 

The  six  men,  in  half  a  dozen  different  positions,  sur- 
rounded Chagres  Charley's  fire,  and  gazed  into  it  as  intently 
as  if  they  were  fire-worshipers  awaiting  the  utterances  of  a 
salamanderish  oracle. 

But  the  doughty  Puritans  of  Cromwell's  time,  while  they 
trusted  in  God,  carefully  protected  their  powder  from 
moisture,  and  the  devout  Mohammedan,  to  this  day,  ties  up 
his  camel  at  night  before  committing  it  to  the  keeping  of  the 
higher  powers  ;  so  it  was  but  natural  that  the  anxious  ones 
at  Flatfoot  Bar  vigorously  ventilated  their  own  ideas  whilo 
they  longed  for  light  and  knowledge. 

"  They  ain't  ornaments  to  camp,  no  way  you  can  fix  it. 


SOME  FLATPOOT  BAR  FOLKS.  53 

them  Gieasers  ain't,"  said  a  tall  miner,  bestowing  an  effec- 
tive kick  upon  a  stick  of  firewood,  which  had  departed  a 
short  distance  from  his  neighbors. 

"  Mississp's  right,  fellers,"  said  the  host.  "  They  ain't  got 
the  slightest  idee  of  the  duties  of  citizens.  They  show 
themselves  down  to  the  saloon,  to  be  sure,  an'  I  never  seed 
one  of  'em  a-waterin'  his  liquor ;  but  when  you've  sed  that, 
you've  sed  ev'rythin'." 

"  Our  distinguished  friend  speaks  truthfully,"  remarked 
Nappy  Boney,  the  only  Frenchman  in  camp,  and  possessing 
a  nickname  playfully  contracted  from  the  name  of  the  first 
emperor.  "  La  gloire  is  nothing  to  them.  Comprehends  any 
one  that  they  know  not  even  of  France's  most  illustrious  son, 
le  petit  caporal  ?  " 

"  That's  bad,  to  be  sure,"  said  Texas,  cutting  an  enormous 
chew  of  tobacco,  and  passing  both  plug  and  knife ;  "  but 
that  might  be  overlooked ;  mebbe  the  schools  down  in 
Mexico  ain't  up  with  the  times.  What  I'm  down  on  is,  they 
hain't  got  none  of  the  eddication  that  comes  nateral  to  a 
gentleman,  even  ef  he  never  seed  the  outside  of  a  school- 
house.  Who  ever  heerd  of  one  of  'em  hevin'  a  difficulty 
with  any  gentleman,  at  the  saloon  or  on  the  crick  ?  They 
drar  a  good  deal  of  blood,  but  it's  allers  from  some  of  their 
own  kind,  an'  up  there  by  'emselves.  Ef  they  hed  a  grain 
of  public  spirit,  not  to  say  liberality,  they'd  do  some  of  their 
amusements  before  the  rest  of  us,  instead  of  gougin'  the 
camp  out  of  its  constitutional  amusements.  Why,  I've 
knowed  the  time  when  I've  held  in  fur  six  hours  on  a  stretch, 
till  there  could  be  fellers  enough  around  to  git  a  good  deal 
of  enjoyment  out  of  it." 

"  They  wash  out  a  sight  of  dust ! "  growled  Lynn  Taps, 
from  the  Massachusetts  shoe  district ;  "  but  I  never  could 
git  one  of  'em  to  put  up  an  ounce  on  a  game — they  jest  play 
by  'emselves,  an'  keep  all  their  washin's  to  home." 

"  Blarst  'em  hall !  let's  give  'em  tickets-o'-leave,  an'  show 
'era  the  trail ! "  roared  Bracelets,  a  stout  Englishman,  who 
had  on  each  wrist  a  red  scar,  which  had  suggested  his  name 


THEM'S  OUR  PRINCIPLES/' 


and  unpleasant  situations.  "  I  believe  in  fair  play,  but  I 
darsn't  keep  my  eyes  lioff  of  'em  sleepy-lookiri  tops,  when 
their  flippers  is  anywheres  near  their  knives,  you  know." 

"  Well,  what's  to  be  done  to  'em  ?  "  demanded  Lynn  Taps. 
*:  All  this  jawin's  well  enough,  but  jaw  never  cleared  out 
•anybody  'xcep'  that  time  Samson  tried,  an'  then  it  came  from 
an  individual  that  wasn't  related  to  any  of  this  crowd." 

"  Let  'em  alone  till  next  time  they  git  into  a  muss,  an' 
then  clean  'em  all  out  of  camp,"  said  Chagres  Charley. 
"Let's  hev  it  onderstood  that  while  this  camp  cheerfully 
recognizes  the  right  of  a  gentleman  to  shoot  at  sight  an'  lay 
out  his  man,  that  it  considers  stabbin'  in  the  dark's  the  same 
thing  as  murder.  Them's  our  principles,  and  folks  might's 
well  know  'em  fust  as  last.  Good  Lord  !  what's  that  ?" 

All  the  men  started  to  their  feet  at  the  sound  of  a  long, 
loud  yell. 

"  That's  one  of  'em  now ! "  ejaculated  Mississip,  with  a 
huge  oath.  "  Nobody  but  a  Greaser  ken  holler  that  way — 
sounds  like  the  last  despairin'  cry  of  a  dyin'  mule.  There's 
only  eight  or  nine  of  'em,  an'  each  of  us  is  good  fur  two 
Greasers  apiece — let's  make  'em  git  this  minnit." 

And  Mississip  dashed  out  of  the  door,  followed  by  the 
other  five,  revolvers  in  hand. 

The  Mexicans  lived  together,  in  a  hut  made  of  raw  hides, 
one  of  which  constituted  the  door. 

The  devoted  six  reached  the  hut,  Texas  snatched  aside 
the  hide,  and  each  man  presented  his  pistol  at  full  cock. 

But  no  one  fired;  on  the  contrary,  each  man  slowly 
dropped  his  pistol,  and  opened  his  eyes. 

There  was  no  newly  made  corpse  visible,  nor  did  any 
Greasers  savagely  wave  a  bloody  stiletto. 

But  on  the  ground,  insensible,  lay  a  Mexican  woman,  and 
about  her  stood  seven  or  eight  Greasers,  each  looking  even 
more  dumb,  incapable,  and  solemn  than  usual. 

The  city  fathers  felt  themselves  in  an  awkward  position, 
and  Mississip  finally  asked,  in  the  meekest  of  tones : 

"What's  the  matter?" 


GALLANTRY    IN    CAMI>.  55 

"  She  Codago  s  wife,"  softly  replied  a  Mexican.  "  They 
iight  in  Chihuahua — he  run  away — she  follow.  She  come 
here  now — this  minute — she  fall  on  Codago — she  say  some- 
thing, we  know  not — he  scream  an'  run." 

"He's  a  low-lived  scoundrel!"  said  Chagres  Charley, 
between  his  teeth.  "Ef  my  wife  thort  enough  of  me  to 
follow  me  to  the  diggin's,  I  wouldn't  do  much  runnin'  away. 
He's  a  reg'lar  black-hearted,  white-livered — 

"  Sh — h — h  ! "  whispered  Nappy,  the  Frenchman.  "The 
lady  is  recovering,  and  she  may  have  a  heart." 

"Maria,  Madre  purissima  /"  low  wailed  the  woman.  "Mi 
mno — mi  nino  per  dido  /  " 

"What's  she  a-sayin'  ?"  asked  Lynn  Taps,  in  a  whisper. 

"She  talk  about  little  boy  lost,"  said  the  Mexican. 

"An'  her  husband  gone,  too,  poor  woman ! "  said  Chagres 
Charley,  in  the  most  sympathizing  tones  ever  heard  at 
Flatfoot  Bar.  But  a  doctor'd  be  more  good  to  her  jes'  now 
than  forty  sich  husbands  as  her'n.  Where's  the  nearest 
doctor,  fellers  ?  "  continued  Chagres  Charley. 

"  Up  to  Dutch  Hill,"  said  Texas ;  an'  I'll  see  he's  fetched 
inside  of  two  hours." 

Saying  which,  Texas  dropped  the  raw-hide  door,  and 
liurried  off. 

The  remaining  five  strolled  slowly  back  to  Chagres 
Charley's  hut. 

"  Them  Greasers  hain't  never  got  nothiii',"  said  Mississip, 
suddenly;  "an'  that  woman'll  lay  thar  on  the  bare  ground 
all  night  'fore  they  think  of  makin'  her  comfortable.  Who's 
got  an  extra  blanket  ?  " 

"  I ! "  said  each  of  the  four  others  ;  and  Nappy  Boney 
expressed  the  feeling  of  the  whole  party  by  exclaiming  : 

"  The  blue  sky  is  enough  good  to  cover  man  when 
woman  needs  blankets." 

Hastily  Mississip  collected  the  four  extra  blankets  and 
both  of  his  own,  and,  as  he  sped  toward  the  Mexican  hut,  he 
stopped  several  times  by  the  way  to  dexterously  snatch 
blankets  from  sleeping  forms.  , 


56 


NAPPY  BONEY'S  OFFERING. 


"Here  you  be,"  said  he,  suddenly  entering  the  Mexican: 
hut,  and  startling  the  inmates  into  crossing  themselves 
violently.  "  Make  the  poor  thing  a  decent  bed,  an'  we' 
a  doctor  here  pretty  soon." 


SUDDENLY,  BY  THE  GLAEE  OF  A  FRESH    LIGHT,  THE  BOYS  SAW  THE    FACE  OF  A 
BATHER  DIRTY,  LARGE-EYED,  BROWN-SKINNED  MEXICAN  BABY, 

Mississip  had  barely  vanished,  when  a  light  scratching 
was  heard  on  the  door. 

A  Mexican  opened  it,  and  saw  Nappy  Boney,  with 
extended  hand  and  bottle. 


THE.   SEAIiCH    FOR    THE    CHILD.  57 

"It  is  the  eau-de-vie  of  la  Mlc  France"  lie  whispered. 
"  Tenderly  I  have  cherished,  but  it  is  at  the  lady's  service." 

Chagres  Charley,  Lynn  Taps  and  Bracelets  were  com- 
posing their  nerves  with  pipes  about  the  fire  they  had 
surrounded  early  in  the  morning.  Lynn  Taps  had  just 
declared  his  disbelief  of  a  soul  inside  of  the  Mexican  frame, 
when  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  an  excited  Mexican 
appeared. 

"  Her  tongue  come  back  ! "  he  cried.  "  She  say  she  come 
over  mountain — she  bring  little  Boy — she  no  eat,  it  was 
long  time.  Soon  she  must  die,  boy  must  die.  What  she  do  ? 
She  put  round  boy  her  cloak,  an'  leave  him  by  rock,  an' 
hurry  to  tell.  Maybe  coyote  get  him.  What  can  do?" 

"  What  can  we  do  ?  "  echoed  Lynn  Taps  ;  "  turn  out  every 
galoot  in  camp,  and  foller.  her  tracks  till  we  find  it.  Souls 
or  no  souls,  don't  make  no  diff'rence.  I'll  tramp  my  legs 
off,  'fore  that  child  shall  be  left  out  in  the  snow  in  them 
mountains." 

Within  five  minutes  every  man  in  camp  had  been  aroused. 

Each  man  swore  frightfully  at  being  prematurely  turned 
out — each  man  hated  the  Greasers  with  all  his  heart  and 
soul  and  strength ;  but  each  man,  as  he  learned  what  was 
the  matter,  made  all  possible  haste,  and  fluently  cursed  all 
who  were  slower  than  himself. 

In  fact,  two  or  three  irrepressible  spirits,  consuming  with 
delay,  started  alone  011  independent  lines  of  search. 

Chagres  Charley  appeared  promptly,  and  assumed  com- 
mand. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  we'll  sprinkle  out  into  a  line  a  couple 
of  miles  long,  and  march  up  the  mountain  till  we  reach  the 
snow.  When  I  think  it's  time,  I'll  fire  three  times,  an'  then 
each  feller'll  face  an'  tramp  to  the  right,  keepin'  a  keerful 
lookout  for  a  woman's  tracks  p'intiii'  t'ward  camp.  Ther 
can't  be  110  mistakin'  'em,  for  them  sennyritas  hez  the  littlest 
kind  o'  feet.  When  any  feller  finds  her  tracks,  he'll  fire,  an' 
then  we'll  rally  011  him.  I  wish  them  other  fellers,  instid 
of  goin'  off  half-cocked,  lied  tracked  Codago,  the  low-lived 


£8  CODAGO    AND    HIS    PACK. 

r,kunk.  To  think  of  him  runnin'  away  from  wife,  an'  young 
one,  too  !  Forward,  git ! " 

"  They  hain't  got  no  souls— that's  what  made  him  do  it, 
Charley,"  said  Lynn  Taps,  as  the  men  deployed. 

Steadily  the  miners  ascended  the  rugged  slope  ;  rocks, 
trees,  fallen  trunks  and  treacherous  holes  impeded  their 
progress,  but  did  not  stop  them. 

A  steady  wind  cut  them  to  the  bone,  and  grew  more  keen 
and  fierce  as  they  neared  the  snow. 

Suddenly  Chagres  Charley  fired,  and  the  boys  faced  to 
the  right — a  moment  later  another  shot  rallied  the  party ; 
those  nearest  it  found  Nappy  Boney  in  a  high  state  of  ex- 
citement, and  leaning  over  a  foot-print. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  he  cried ;  "  they  have  not  the  esprit,  those 
Hexicans  ;  but  her  footprints  might  have  been  made  by  the 
adorable  feet  of  one  of  my  countrywomen,  it  is  so  small." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mississip ;  "  an'  one  of  them  fellers  that 
started  ahead  hez  found  it  fust,  fur  here's  a  man's  track 
a-goin'  up." 

Rapidly  the  excited  miners  followed  the  tracks  through 
the  snow,  and  found  them  gradually  leading  to  the  regular 
trail  across  the  mountain,  which  trail  few  men  ventured 
upon  at  that  season.  Suddenly  the  men  in  advance  stopped. 

"  Here  'tis,  I  reckon  ! "  cried  Mississip,  springing  across 
a  small  cleft  in  the  rocks,  and  running  toward  a  dark  object 
lying  on  the  sheltered  side  of  a  small  cliff.  "  Good  God ! " 
he  continued,  as  he  stooped  down ;  "  it's  Codago  !  An'  he's 
froze  stiff." 

"Serve  him  right,  cuss  him,"  growled  Lynn  Taps.  "I 
almost  wish  he  had  a  soul,  so  he  could  catch  it  good  an'  hot, 
now  he's  gone  ! " 

"  He's  got  his  pack  with  him,"  shouted  Mississip,  "  and 
a  huggin'  it  ez  tight  ez  ef  he  could  take  it  to — to  wherever 
he's  gone  to." 

"  No  man  with  a  soul  could  hev  ben  cool  enough  to 
pack  up  his  trap's  after  seein'  that  poor  woman's  face," 
argued  Lynn  Taps. 


"  IT  BEATS  ANYTHING  I  EVER  SEED.  *  59 

Mississip  tore  off  a  piece  of  his  trowsers,  struck  fire  with 
flint  and  steel,  poured  on  whisky,  and  blew  it  into  a  flame. 

Rapidly  the  miners  straggled  up  the  trail,  and  halted 
opposite  Mississip. 

"Well,  I'll  be  durned!"  shouted  the  latter;  "he  ain't 
got  no  shirt  on,  an'  there's  an  ugly  cut  in  his  arm.  It  beats 
anything  I  ever  seed  ! " 

One  by  one  the  miners  leaped  the  cleft,  and  'crowded 
about  Mississip  arid  stared. 

It  was  certainly  Codago,  and  there  was  certainly  his  pack, 
made  up  in  his  poncho,  in  the  usual  Greaser  manner,  and 
held  tightly  in  his  arms. 

But  while  they  stared,  there  was  a  sudden  movement  of 
the  pack  itself. 

Lynn  Taps  gave  a  mighty  tug  at  it,  extricated  it  from  the 
dead  man's  grasp,  and  rapidly  undid  it. 

Suddenly,  by  the  glare  of  a  fresh  light,  the  boys  saw  the 
face  of  a  rather  dirty,  large-eyed,  brown-skinned  Mexican 
baby ;  and  the  baby,  probably  by  way  of  recognition,  raised 
high  a  voice  such  as  the  boys  never  heard  before  on  that 
side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

"  Here's  what  that  cut  in  his  arm  means,"  shouted  a 
miner  who  had  struck  a  light  on  the  trail ;  "  there's  a 
finger-mark,  done  in  blood  on  the  snow,  by  the  side  of  the 
trail,  an'  a-pintin'  right  to  that  ledge  ;  an'  here's  his  shirt  a- 
flappin'  on  a  stick  stuck  in  a  snow-bank  lookin'  t'ward  camp." 

"  There  ain't  no  doubt  'bout  what  the  woman  said  to  him, 
or  what  made  him  yell  an'  git,  boys,"  said  Chagres  Charley, 
solemnly,  as  he  took  a  blanket  from  his  shoulders  and 
spread  it  on  the  ground. 

Mississip  took  off  his  hat,  and  lifting  the  poor  Mexican 
from  the  snow,  laid  him  in  the  blanket.  Lynn  Taps  hid  the 
baby,  rewrapped,  under  his  own  blanket,  and  hurried  down 
the  mountain,  while  four  men  picked  up  Codago  and  fol- 
lowed. 

Lynn  Taps  scratched  on  the  rawhide  door ;  the  doctor 
opened  it. 


60  "  WALK  UP,  BOYS— FILL  HIGH — HATS  OFF.' 

Lynn  Tapps  unrolled  the  bundle,  and  its  occupant  again 
raised  its  voice. 

The  woman,  who  was  lying  motionless  and  with  closed 
eyes,  sprang  to  her  feet  in  an  instant,  and  as  Lynn  Taps 
laid  his  burden  on  the  blankets,  the  woman,  her  every  dull 
feature  softened  and  lighted  with  motherly  tenderness,  threw 
her  arms  about  the  astonished  Yankee,  and  then  fell  sob- 
bing at  his  feet. 

"  You've  brought  her  tie  only  medicine  that'll  do  her 
any  good,"  said  the  doctor,  giving  the  baby  a  gentle  dig 
under  the  ribs  as  he  picked  up  his  saddle-bags. 

Lynn  'Taps  made  a  hasty  escape,  and  reached  the 
saloon,  which  had  been  hurriedly  opened  as  the  crowd  was 
heard  approaching. 

The  bearers  of  the  body  deposited  it  gently  on  the  floor, 
and  the  crowd  filed  in  quietly. 

Lynn  Taps  walked  up  to  the  bar,  and  rapped  upon  it. 

"  Walk  up,  boys,"  said  he  ;  "  fill  high ;  hats  off.  Here's 
Codago.  Maybe  he  didn't  have  a  soul,  but  if  he  didn't,  souls 
ain't  needed  in  this  world.  Buttoms  up,  every  man." 

The  toast  was  drunk  quietly  and  reverently,  and  when  it 
was  suggested  that  the  Greasers  themselves  should  have 
participated,  they  were  all  summoned,  and  the  same  toast 
was  drank  again. 

The  next  day,  as  the  body  of  Codago  was  being  carried  to 
a  newly  dug  grave,  on  the  high  ground  overlooking  the 
creek,  and  the  Mexicans  stood  about,  as  if  dumb  staring 
and  incessant  smoking  were  the  only  proprieties  to  be 
observed  on  such  occasions,  Lynn  Taps  thoughtfully 
offered  his  arm  to  the  weeping  widow,  and  so  sorrowful  was 
she  throughout  the  performance  of  the  sad  rites,  that  Lynn 
Taps  was  heard  to  remark  that,  however  it  might  be  with 
the  men,  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  Mexican  women's 
possessing  souls.  As  a  few  weeks  later  the  widow  became 
Mrs.  Lynn  Taps,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  her  second 
husband's  final  convictions  were  genuine. 


THE   LAST   PIKE   AT  JAGGEB'S   BEND. 

"TTTHERE  they  came  from  no  one  knew.  Among  the 
\\  farmers  near  the  Bend  there  was  ample  ability  to 
conduct  researches  beset  by  far  more  difficulties  than  was 
that  of  the  origin  of  the  Pikes ;  but  a  charge  of  buckshot 
which  a  good-natured  Yankee  received  one  evening,  soon 
after  putting  questions  to  a  venerable  Pike,  exerted  a  de- 
pressing influence  upon  the  spirit  of  investigation.  They 
were  not  bloodthirsty,  these  Pikes,  but  they  had  good 
reason  to  suspect  all  inquirers  of  being  at  least  deputy 
sheriffs,  if  not  worse  ;  and  a  Pike's  hatred  of  officers  of  the 
law  is  equaled  in  intensity  only  by  his  hatred  for  manual 
labor. 

But  while  there  was  doubt  as  to  the  fatherland  of  the 
little  colony  of  Pikes  at  Jagger's  Bend,  their  every  neighbor 
would  willingly  make  affidavit  as  to  the  cause  of  their  locat- 
ing and  remaining  at  the  Bend.  When'  humanitarians  and 
optimists  argued  that  it  was  because  the  water  was  good  and 
convenient,  that  the  Bend  itself  caught  enough  drift-wood 
for  fuel,  and  that  the  dirt  would  yield  a  little  gold  when 
manipulated  by  placer  and  pan,  all  farmers  and  stockowners 
would  freely  admit  the  validity  of  these  reasons ;  but  the 
admission  was  made  with  a  countenance  whose  indignation 
and  sorrow  indicated  that  the  greater  causes  were  yet 
unnamed.  With  eyes  speaking  emotions  which  words  could 
not  express,  they  would  point  to  sections  of  wheat-fields 
minus  the  grain-bearing  heads — to  hides  and  hoofs  of  cattle 
imslaughtered  by  themselves — to  mothers  of  promising" 


62  AN  ARISTOCRATIC  COMMUNITY. 

calves,  whose  tender  bleatings  answered  not  the  maternal 
call — to  the  places  which  had  once  known  fine  horses,  but 
had  been  untenanted  since  certain  Pikes  had  gone  across, 
the  mountains  for  game.  They  would  accuse  no  man 
wrongfully,  but  in  a  country  where  all  farmers  had  wheat 
and  cattle  and  horses,  and  where  prowling  Indians  and  Mex- 
icans were  not,  how  could  these  disappearances  occur  ? 

But  to  people  owning  no  property  in  the  neighborhood 
— to  tourists  and  artists — the  Pike  settlement  at  the  Bend 
was  as  interesting  and  ugly  as  a  stye-terrier.  The  archi- 
tecture of  the  village  was  of  original  style,  and  no  duplicate 
existed.  Of  the  half-dozen  residences,  one  was  composed 
exclusively  of  sod ;  another  of  bark ;  yet  another  of  poles:, 
roofed  with  a  wagon-cover,  and  plastered  on  the  outside 
with  mud  ;  the  fourth  was  of  slabs,  nicely  split  from  logs 
which  had  drifted  into  the  Bend ;  the  fifth  was  of  hide 
stretched  over  a  frame  strictly  gothic  from  foundation  to 
ridgepole  ;  while  the  sixth,  burrowed  into  the  hillside,  dis- 
played only  the  barrel  which  formed  its  chimney. 

A  more  aristocratic  community  did  not  exist  on  the  Pa- 
cific Coast.  Yisit  the  Pikes  when  you  would,  you  could 
lever  see  any  one  working.  Of  churches,  school-houses, 
stores  and  other  plebeian  institutions,  there  were  none  ;  and 
no  Pike  demeaned  himself  by  entering  trade,  or  soiled  his- 
hands  by  agriculture. 

Yet  unto  this  peaceful,  contented  neighborhood  there 
found  his  way  a  visitor  who  had  been  everywhere  in  the 
world  without  once  being  made  welcome.  He  came  to  the 
house  built  of  slabs,  and  threatened  the  wife  of  Sam  Trot- 
wine,  owner  of  the  house ;  and  Sam,  after  sunning  himself 
uneasily  for  a  day  or  two,  mounted  a  pony,  and  rode  off  for 
a  doctor  to  drive  the  intruder  away. 

When  he  returned  he  found  all  the  men  in  the  camp 
seated  on  a  log  in  front  of  his  own  door,  and  then  he  knew 
he  must  prepare  for  the  worst — only  one  of  the  great  influ- 
ences of  the  world  could  force  every  Pike  from  his  own 
door  at  exactly  the  same  time.  There  they  sat,  yellow-faced, 


"  I  WISH  TER   GOD   I   COULD   DIE   FUR  YER."  63 

bearded,  long-backed  and  bent,  eacli  looking  like  the  other, 
and  all  like  Sam ;  and,  as  he  dismounted,  they  all  looked  at 
him. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  said  Sam,  tying  his  horse  and  the  doctor's, 
while  the  latter  went  in. 

"  Well,"  said  the  oldest  man,  with  deliberation,  "  the 
wimmin's  all  thar  ef  that's  any  sign." 

Each  man  on  the  log  inclined  his  head  slightly  but 
positively  to  the  left,  thus  manifesting  belief  that  Sam  had 
been  correctly  and  sufficiently  answered.  Sam  himself 
seemed  to  regard  his  information  in  about  the  same 
manner. 

Suddenly  the  raw  hide  which  formed  the  door  of  Sam's 
house  was  pushed  aside,  and  a  woman  came  out  and  called 
Sam,  and  he  disappeared  from  his  log. 

As  he  entered  his  hut,  all  the  women  lifted  sorrowful 
faces  and  retired  ;  no  one  even  lingered,  for  the  Pike  has 
not  the  common  human  interest  in  other  people's  business ; 
he  lacks  that,  as  well  as  certain  similar  virtues  of  civiliza- 
tion. 

Sam  dropped  by  the  bedside,  and  was  human ;  his  heart 
was  in  the  right  place ;  and  though  heavily  intrenched  by 
years  of  laziness  and  whisky  and  tobacco,  it  could  be  brought 
to  the  front,  and  it  came  now. 

The  dying  woman  cast  her  eyes  appealingly  at  the 
surgeon,  and  that  worthy  stepped  outside  the  door.  Then 
the  yellow-faced  woman  said : 

"  Sam,  doctor  says  I  ain't  got  much  time  left. 

"  Mary,"  said  Sam,  "  I  wish  ter  God  I  could  die  fur  yei\ 
The  children " 

"  It's  them  I  want  to  talk  about,  Sam,"  replied  his  wife. 
'An'  I  wish  they  could  die  with  me,  rather'ii  hev  'em  liv 
ez  I've  lied  to.  Not  that  you  ain't  been  a  kind  husband  to 
me,  for  you  hev.  Whenever  I  wanted  meat  yev  got  itr 
somehow ;  an'  when  yev  been  ugly  drunk,  yev  kep'  away 
from  the  house.  But  I'm  dyiii',  Sam,  and  it's  cos  you've 
killed  me." 


64  HIS  LIPS  BROUGHT  TO  HER  WAN   FACE  A  SMILE. 

"  Good  God,  Mary  ! "  cried  the  astonished  Sam,  jumping 
up  ;  "  yure  crazy — here,  doctor ! " 

"  Doctor  can't  do  no  good,  Sam ;  keep  still,  and  listen,  ef 
yer  love  me  like  yer  once  said  yer  did;  for  I  hevn't  got 
much  breath  left,"  gasped  the  woman. 

"  Mary,"  said  the  aggrieved  Sam,  "  I  swow  to  God  I 
dunno  what  yer  drivin'  at." 

"  It's  jest  this,  Sam,"  replied  the  woman  :  "  Yer  tuk  me, 
tellin'  me  ye'd  love  me  an'  honor  me  an'  pertect  me.  You 
mean  to  say,  now,  yev  done  it  ?  I'm  a-dyin',  Sam — I  hain't 
got  no  favors  to  ask  of  nobody,  an'  I'm  tellin'  the  truth,  not 
knowin'  what  worcl'll  be  my  last." 

"  Then  tell  a  feller  where  the  killin'  came  in,  Mary,  for 
heaven's  sake/'  said  the  unhappy  Sam. 

"  It's  come  in  all  along,  Sam,"  said  the  woman ;  "  there 
is  women  in  the  States,  so  I've  heerd,  that  marries  fur  a 
home,  an'  bread  an'  butter,  but  you  promised  more'ii  that, 
Sam.  An'  I've  waited.  An'  it  ain't  come.  An'  there's 
somethin'  in  me  that's  all  starved  and  cut  to  pieces.  An'  it's 
your  fault,  Sam.,  I  tuk  yer  fur  better  or  fur  wuss,  an'  I've 
never  grumbled. ' ' 

"I  know  yer  hain't,  Mary,"  whispered  the  conscience- 
stricken  Pike.  "An'  I  know  what  yer  mean.  Ef  God '11 
only  let  yer  be  fur  a  few  years,  I'll  see  ef  the  thing  can't  be 
helped.  Don't  cuss  me,  Mary — I've  never  knowed  how  I've 
been  a-goin'.  I  wish  there  was  somethin'  I  could  do  'fore  you 
go,  to  pay  yer  all  I  owe  yer.  I'd  go  back  on  everything 
that  makes  life  worth  hevin'." 

"  Pay  it  to  the  children,  Sam,"  said  the  sick  woman, 
raising  herself  in  her  miserable  bed.  "I'll  forgive  yer 
everything  if  you'll  do  the  right  thing  fur  them.  Do—do— 
everything ! '  said  the  woman,  throwing  up  her  arms  and 
falling  backward.  Her  husband's  arm  caught  her  ;  his  lips 
brought  to  her  wan  face  a  smile,  which  the  grim  visitor,  who 
an  instant  later  stole  her  breath,  pityingly  left  in  full 
possession  of  the  rightful  inheritance  from  which  it  had 
been  so  long  excluded. 


"I  NEVER  HEAED   OF   SUCH  A  THING.'*  65 

Sam  knelt  for  a  moment  with  his  face  beside  his  wife — 
what  he  said  or  did  the  Lord  only  knew,  but  the  doctor,  who 
was  of  a  speculative  mind,  afterward  said  that  when  Sam 
appeared  at  the  door  he  showed  the  first  Pike  face  in  which 
he  had  ever  seen  any  signs  of  a  soul. 

Sam  went  to  the  sod  house,  where  lived  the  oldest  woman 
in  the  camp,  and  briefly  announced  the  end  of  his  wife. 
Then,  after  some  consultation  with  the' old  woman,  Sam  rode 
to  town  on  one  of  his  horses,  leading  another.  He  came 
back  with  but  one  horse  and  a  large  bundle  ;  and  soon  the 
women  were  making  for  Mrs.  Trotwine  her  last  earthly  robe, 
and  the  first  new  one  she  had  worn  for  years.  The  next  day 
a  wagon  brought  a  coffin  and  a  minister,  and  the  whole  camp 
silently  and  respectfully  followed  Mrs.  Trotwine  to  a  home 
with  which  she  could  find  no  fault. 

For  three  days  all  the  male  Pikes  in  the  camp  sat  on  the 
log  in  front  of  Sam's  door,  and  expressed  their  sympathy  as 
did  the  three  friends  of  Job — that  is,  they  held  their  peace. 
But  on  the  fourth  their  tongues  were  unloosed.  As  a  con- 
versationalist the  Pike  is  not  a  success,  but  Sam's  actions 
were  so  unusual  and  utterly  unheard  of,  that  it  seemed  as  if 
even  the  stones  must  have  wondered  and  communed  among 
themselves. 

"I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Brown  Buck;  "he's 
gone  an'  bought  new  clothes  for  each  of  the  four  young 
'uns." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  patriarch  of  the  camp,  "an'  this  mornin', 
when  I  went  down  to  the  bank  to  soak  my  head,  'cos  last 
night's  liquor  didn't  agree  with  it,  I  seed  Sam  with  all  his 
young  'uns  as  they  wuz  a  washin'  their  face  an'  hands  with 
soap.  They'll  ketch  their  death  an'  be  on  the  hill  with 
their  mother  'fore  long,  if  he  don't  look  out ;  somebody  ort 
to  reason  with  him." 

"  'Twon't  do  no  good,"  sighed  Limping  Jim.  "  He's  lost 
his  head,  an'  reason  just  goes  into  one  ear  and  out  at  t'other. 
When  he  was  scrapin'  aroun'  the  front  door  t'other  day,  an' 
I  asked  him  what  he  wuz  a-layin'  the  ground  all  bare  an'- 


66  RUIN  TO  JAGGEB'S  BEND. 

desolate  for,  lie  said  lie  was  done  keepin'  pig-pen.  Now 
everybody  but  him  knows  he  never  had  a  pig.  His  head's 
gone,  just  mark  my  words." 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  Sam's  friends  had  just 
secured  a  full  attendance  on  the  log,  and  were  at  work  upon 
their  first  pipes,  when  they  were  startled  by  seeing  Sam 
harness  his  horse  in  the  wagon  and  put  all  his  children 
into  it. 

"Whar  yer  bound  fur,  Sam?"  asked  the  patriarch. 

Sam  blushed  as  near  as  a  Pike  could,  but  answered  with 
only  a  little  hesitation  : 

"  Goin'  to  take  'em  to  school  to  Maxfield — goin'  to  do  ii 
ev'ry  day." 

The  incumbent  of  the  log  were  too  nearly  paralyzed  ta 
remonstrate,  but  after  a  few  moments  of  silence  the  patriarch 
remarked,  in  tones  of  feeling,  yet  decision  : 

"  He's  hed  a  tough  time  of  it,  but  he's  no  bizness  to  ruin 
the  settlement.  I'm  an  old  man  myself,  an'  I  need  peace  of 
mind,  so  I'm  goin'  to  pack  up  my  traps  and  mosey.  When 
the  folks  at  Maxfield  knows  what  he's  doin',  they'll  make 
him  a  constable  or  a  justice,  an'  I'm  too  much  of  a  man  to 
live  nigh  any  sich." 

And  next  clay  the  patriarch  wheeled  his  family  and  pro- 
perty to  parts  unknown. 

A  few  days  later  Jim  Merrick,  a  brisk  farmer  a  few  miles 
from  the  Bend,  stood  in  front  of  his  own  house,  and  shaded 
his  eyes  in  solemn  wonder.  It  couldn't  be — he'd  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing  before — yet  it  was — there  was  no  doubt 
of  it — there  was  a  Pike  riding  right  toward  him,  in  open 
daylight.  He  could  swear  that  Pike  had  often  visited  him 
— that  is,  his  wheatfield  and  corral — after  dark,  but  a  day- 
light visit  from  a  Pike  was  as  unusual  as  a  social  call  of  a 
Samaritan  upon  a  Jew.  And  when  Sam — for  it  was  he- 
approached  Merrick  and  made  his  business  known,  the 
farmer  was  more  astonished  and  confused  than  he  had  ever 
been  in  his  life  before.  Sam  wanted  to  know  for  how  much 
money  Merrick  would  plow  and  plant  a  hundred  and  sixty 


SAM   ElvTERS   A   QUARTER   SECTION.  6T 

acres  of  wheat  for  him,  and  whether  he  would  take  Sam's 
horse — a  fine  animal,brought  from  the  States,  and  for  which 
Sam  could  show  a  bill  of  sale — as  security  for  the  amount 
until  he  could  harvest  and  sell  his  crop.  Merrick  so  well 
understood  the  Pike  nature,  that  he  made  a  very  liberal 
offer,  and  afterward  said  he  would  have  paid  handsomely 
for  the  chance. 

A  few  days  later,  and  the  remaining  Pikes  at  the  Bend 
experienced  the  greatest  scare  that  had  ever  visited  their 
souls.  A  brisk  man  came  into  the  Bend  with  a  tripod  on 
his  shoulder,  and  a  wire  chain,  and  some  wire  pins,  and  a 
queer  machine  under  his  arm,  and  before  dark  the  Pikes- 
understood  that  Sam  had  deliberately  constituted  himself  a 
renegade  by  entering  a  quarter  section  of  land.  Next  morn- 
ing two  more  residences  were  empty,  and  the  remaining 
fathers  of  the  hamlet  adorned  not  Sam's  log,  but  wandered 
about  with  faces  vacant  of  all  expression  save  the  agony  of 
the  patriot  who  sees  his  home  invaded  by  corrupting  influ- 
ences too  powerful  for  him  to  resist. 

Then  Merrick  sent  up  a  gang-plow  and  eight  horses,  and 
the  tender  green  of  Sam's  quarter  section  was  rapidly 
changed  to  a  dull-brown  color,  which  is  odious  unto  the  eye 
of  the  Pike.  Day  by  day  the  brown  spot  grew  larger,  and 
one  morning  Sam  arose  to  find  all  his  neighbors  departed, 
having  wreaked  their  vengeance  upon  him  by  taking  away 
his  dogs.  And  in  his  delight  at  their  disappearance,  Sam 
freely  forgave  them  all. 

Eegularly  the  children  were  carried  to  and  from  school, 
and  even  to  Sunday-school — regularly  every  evening  Sam 
visited  the  grave  on  the  hillside,  and  came  back  to  lie  by  the 
hour  looking  at  the  sleeping  darlings — little  by  little  farmers, 
began  to  realize  that  their  property  was  undisturbed— little 
by  little  Sam's  wheat  grew  and  waxed  golden;  and  then 
there  came  a  day  when  a  man  from  'Frisco  came  and 
changed  it  into  a  heavier  gold — more  gold  than  Sam  had 
ever  seen  before.  And  the  farmers  began  to  stop  in  to  see 
Sam,  and  their  children  came  to  see  his,  and  kind  women 


68 


THE  GOLDEN   HARVEST. 


were  unusually  kind  to  the  orphans,  and  as  day  by  day  Sam 
took  his  solitary  walk  on  the  hillside,  the  load  on  his  heart 
grew  lighter,  until  he  ceased  to  fear  the  day  when  he,  too, 
should  lie  there. 


FIKST  PKAYEK  AT  HANNEY'S. 

HANNEY'S  DIGGINGS  certainly  needed  a  missionary,  if 
any  place  ever  did;  but,  as  one  of  the  boys  once  re- 
marked during  a  great  lack  of  water,  "  It  had  to  keep  on  a- 
needin'."  Zealous  men  came  up  by  steamer  via  the  Isthmus, 
and  seemed  to  consume  with  their  fiery  haste  to  get  on 
board  the  vessel  for  China  and  Japan,  and  carry  the  glad 
tidings  to  the  heathen.  Self-sacrificing  souls  gave  up  home 
and  friends,  and  hurried  across,  overland,  to  brave  the 
Pacific  and  bury  themselves  among  the  Australasian  savages. 
But,  though  they  all  passed  in  sight  of  Hanney's,  none  of 
them  paused  to  give  any  attention  to  the  souls  who  had 
flocked  there.  Men  came  out  from  'Frisco  and  the  East  to 
labor  with  the  Chinese  miners,  who  were  the  only  peaceable 
and  well-behaved  people  in  the  mines ;  but  the  white-faced, 
good-natured,  hard-swearing,  generous,  heavy-drinking,  .en- 
thusiastic, murderous  Anglo-Saxons  they  let  severely  alone. 
Perhaps  they  thought  that  hearts  in  which  the  good  seed 
had  once  been  sown,  but  failed  to  come  up  into  fruit,  were 
barren  soil ;  perhaps  they  thought  it  preferable  to  be  killed 
and  eaten  by  cannibals  than  to  be  tumbled  into  a  gulch  by 
a  revolver-shot,  while  the  shootist  strolled  calmly  off  in  com- 
pany with  his  approving  conscience,  never  thinking  to 
ascertain  whether  his  bullet  had  completed  the  business,  or 
whether  a  wounded  man  might  not  have  to  fight  death  and 
coyotes  together. 

At  any  rate,  the  missionaries  let  Hanney's  alone.     If  any 
one  with  an  unquenchable  desire  to  carry  the  Word  where  it 


70  "PENTECOST  CHAPEL." 

is  utterly  unknown,  a  digestion  without  fear,  and  a  full-proof 
article  of  common  sense  (these  last  two  requisites  are  abso- 
lute), should  be  looking  for  an  eligible  location,  Hanney's  is 
just  the  place  for  him,  and  he  need  give  himself  no  trouble 
for  fear  some  one  would  step  in  before  him.  If  he  has 
several  dozens  of  similarly  constituted  friends,  they  can  all 
find  similar  locations  by  betaking  themselves  to  any  mining 
camp  in  the  West. 

As  Hanney's  had  no  preacher,  it  will  be  readily  imagined 
it  had  no  church.  With  the  first  crowd  who  located  there 
came  an  insolvent  rumseller  from  the  East.  He  called  him- 
self Pentecost,  which  was  as  near  his  right  name  as  is  usual 
with  miners,  and  the  boys  dubbed  his  shop  "Pentecost 
Chapel "  at  once.  The  name,  somehow,  reached  the  East, 
.for  within  a  few  months  there  reached  the  post-office  at 
Hanney's  a  document  addressed  to  "  Preacher  in  charge  of 
Pentecost  Chapel."  The  postmaster  went  up  and  down  the 
brook  in  high  spirits,  and  told  the  boys  ;  they  instantly 
dropped  shovel  and  pan,  formed  line,  and  escorted  the  post- 
master and  document  to  the  chapel.  Pentecost  acknow- 
ledged the  joke,  and  stood  treat  for  the  crowd,  after  which 
he  solemnly  tore  the  wrapper,  and  disclosed  the  report  of  a 
certain  missionary  society.  Modestly  expressing  his  gratifi- 
cation at  the  honor,  and  his  unworthiness  of  it,  he  moved 
that  old  Thompson,  who  had  the  loudest  voice  in  the  crowd, 
should  read  the  report  aloud,  he,  Pentecost,  volunteering  to 
furnish  Thompson  all  necessary  spirituous  aid  during  the 
continuance  of  his  task.  Thompson  promptly  signified  his 
acquiescence,  cleared  his  throat  with  a  glass  of  amber-colored 
liquid,  and  commenced,  the  boys  meanwhile  listening  atten- 
tively, and  commenting  critically. 

"  Too  much  cussed  heavenly  twang,"  observed  one,  disap- 
provingly, as  one  letter  largely  composed  of  Scriptural 
extracts  was  read. 

"Why  the  deuce  didn't  he  shoot?"  indignantly  demanded 
another,  as  a  tale  of  escape  from  heathen  pursuers  was 
Tead. 


THE   CONTENTS   OF    THE   HAT.  71 

"  Shot  up  wimmen  in  a  denied  dark  room  !  Well,  Til  be 
durned!"  soliloquized  a  yellow -haired  Missourian,  as 
Thompson  read  an  account  of  a  Zenana.  "  Keckon  they'd  set 
an  infernal  sight  higher  by  wimmen  if  they  wuz  in  the  dig- 
gins'  six  months — hey,  fellers  ?  " 

"  You  bet ! "  emphatically  responded  a  majority  of  those 
present. 

Before  the  boys  became  very  restive,  Thompson  finished 
the  pamphlet,  including  a  few  lines  on  the  cover,  which 
stated  that  the  society  was  greatly  in  need  of  funds,  and  that 
contributions  might  be  sent  to  the  society's  financial  agent 
in  Boston.  Thompson  gracefully  concluded  his  service  by 
passing  the  hat,  with  the  following  net  result :  Two  revol- 
vers, one  double-barreled  pistol,  three  knives,  one  watch,  two 
rings  (both  home-made,  valuable  and  fearfully  ugly),  a  poc- 
ket-ink stand,  a  silver  tobacco-box,  and  forty  or  fifty  ounces  of 
dust  and  nuggets.  Boston  Bill,  who  was  notoriously  absent- 
minded,  dropped  in  a  pocket-comb,  but,  on  being  sternly 
called  to  order  by  old  Thompson,  cursed  himself  most 
fluently,  and  redeemed  his  disgraceful  contribution  with  a 
gold  double-eagle.  "The  Webfoot,"  who  was  the  most 
unlucky  man  in  camp,  had  been  so  wrought  upon  by  the 
tale  of  one  missionary  who  had  lost  his  all  many  times  in 
succession,  sympathetically  contributed  his  only  shovel,  for 
which  act  he  was  enthusiastically  cursed  and  liberally 
treated  at  the  bar,  while  the  shovel  was  promptly  sold  at 
auction  to  the  highest  bidder,  who  presented  it,  with  a 
staggering  slap  between  the  shoulders,  to  its  original  owner. 
The  remaining  non-legal  tenders  were  then  converted  into 
gold-dust,  and  the  whole  dispatched  by  express,  with  a  grim 
note  from  Pentecost,  to  the  society's  treasurer  at  Boston. 
As  the  society  was  controlled  by  a  denomination  which  does 
not  understand  how  good  can  come  out  of  evil,  110  detail  of 
this  contribution  ever  appeared  in  print.  But  a  few  months 
thereafter  there  did  appear  at  Hanney's  a  thin-chested,  large- 
headed  youth,  with  a  heavily  loaded  mule,  who  announced 
himself  as  duly  accredited  by  the  aforementioned  society  to 


72  THE  YOUNG    MAN  GOES   FOR  HIS   MULE. 

preacli  the  Gospel  among  tlie  miners.  The  boys  received 
him  cordially,  and  Pentecost  offered  him  the  nightly  hospi- 
tality of  curling  up  to  sleep  in  front  of  the  bar-room  fire- 
place. His  mule's  load  proved  to  consist  largely  of  tracts, 
which  he  vigorously  distributed,  and  which  the  boys  used  to 
wrap  up  dust  in.  He  nearly  starved  while  trying  to  learn  to 
cook  his  own  food,  so  some  of  the  boys  took  him  in  and  fed 
him.  He  tried  to  persuade  the  boys  to  stop  drinking,  and 
they  good-naturedly  laughed ;  but  when  he  attempted  to 
break  up  the  "  lifctle  game  "  which  was  the  only  amusement 
of  the  camp — the  only  steady  amusement,  for  fights  were 
short  and  irregular — the  camp  rose  in  its  wrath,  and  the 
young  man  hastily  rose  and  went  for  his  mule. 

But  at  the  time  of  which  this  story  treats  a  missionary 
would  have  fared  even  worse,  for  the  boys  where  wholly 
absorbed  by  a  very  unrighteous,  but  still  very  darling, 
pleasure.  A  pair  of  veteran  knifeists,  who  had  fought  each 
other  at  sight  for  almost  ten  years  every  time  they  met,  had 
again  found  themselves  in  the  same  settlement,  and  Hanney's- 
had  the  honor  to  be  that  particular  settlement.  "  Judge  " 
Briggs,  one  of  the  heroes,  had  many  years  before  discussed 
with  his  neighbor,  Billy  Bent,  the  merits  of  two  opposing 
brands  of  mining  shovels.  In  the  course  of  the  chat  they 
drank  considerable  villainous  whisky,  and  naturally  resorted 
to  knives  as  final  arguments.  The  matter  might  have 
ended  here,  had  either  gained  a  decided  advantage  over  the 
other;  but  both  were  skillful — each  inflicted  and  received  so 
near  the  same  number  of  wounds,  that  the  wisest  men  in 
camp  were  unable  to  decide  which  whipped.  Now,  to 
average  Californians  in  the  mines  this  is  a  most  distressing 
state  of  affairs  ;  the  spectators  and  friends  of  the  combat- 
ants waste  a  great  deal  of  time,  liquor,  and  blood  on  the 
subject,  while  the  combatants  themselves  feel  unspeakably 
uneasy  on  the  neutral  ground  between  victory  and  defeat. 
At  Sonora,  where  Billy  and  the  Judge  had  their  first  en- 
counter, there  was  no  verdict,  so  the  Judge  indignantly 
shook  the  dust  from  his  feet  and  went  elsewhere.  Soon 


ALWAYS  TOOK   HIS   WHISKY   STRAIGHT.  75 

Billy  happened  in  at  the  same  place,  and  a  set-to  occurred 
at  sight,  in  which  the  average  was  not  disarranged.  Both 
men  went  about,  for  a  month  or  two,  in  a  patched-up  condi- 
tion, and  then  Billy  roamed  off,  to  be  soon  met  by  the  Judge 
with  the  usual  result.  Both  men  were  known  by  reputation 
all  through  the  gold  regions,  and  the  advent  of  either  at  any 
"  gulch,"  or  "  washin',"  was  the  best  advertisement  the 
saloon-keepers  could  desire.  In  the  East,  hundreds  of  mon 
would  have  tried  to  reason  the  men  out  of  this  feud,  and 
some  few  would  have  forcibly  separated  them  while  fighting ; 
but  in  the  diggings  any  interference  in  such  matters  is  con- 
sidered impertinent,  and  deserving  of  punishment. 

Hanney's  had  been  fairly  excited  for  a  week,  for  the 
Judge  had  arrived  the  week  before,  and  his  points  had  been 
•carefully  scrutinized  and  weighed,  time  and  again,  by  every 
man  in  the  camp.  There  seemed  nothing  unusual  about 
him — he  was  of  middle  size,  and  long  hair  and  beard,  a  not 
unpleasant  expression,  and  very  dirty  clothes ;  he  never 
jumped  a  claim,  always  took  his  whisky  straight,  played  as 
fair  a  game  of  poker  as  the  average  of  the  boys,  and  never 
stole  a  mule  from  any  one  whiter  than  a  Mexican.  The  boys 
had  just  about  ascertained  all  this,  and  made  their  "  blind  " 
bets  on  the  result  of  the  next  fight,  when  the  whole  camp 
was  convulsed  with  the  intelligence  that  Billy  Bent  had  also 
arrived.  Work  immediately  ceased,  except  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  champions,  and  the  boys  stuck  close  to  the 
chapel,  that  being  the  spot  where  the  encounter  should 
naturally  take  place.  Miners  thronged  in  from  fifty  miles 
around,  and  nothing  but  a  special  mule  express  saved  the 
camp  from  the  horror  of  Pentecost's  bar  being  inadequate  to 
the  demand.  Between  "  straight  bets "  and  "  hedging  " 
most  of  the  gold  dust  in  camp  had  been  "  put  up,"  for  a  bet 
is  the  only  California  backing  of  an  opinion.  As  the  men 
did  not  seem  to  seek  each  other,  the  boys  had  ample  time  to 
"grind  things  down  to  a  pint,"  as  the  camp  concisely  ex- 
pressod  it,  and  the  matter  had  given  excuse  for  a  dozen 
minor  fights,  when  order  was  suddenly  restored  one  after- 


76  "  EXQUISITE   CARVING  "   AT  HANNEY'S. 

noon  by  the  entrance  of  Billy  and  his  neighbors,  just  as  the 
Judge  and  Ids  neighbors  were  finishing  a  drink. 

The  boys  immediately  and  silently  formed  a  ring,  on  tho 
outer  edge  of  which  were  massed  all  the  men  who  had  been 
outside,  and  who  came  pouring  in  like  flies  before  a  shower. 
No  one  squatted  or  hugged  the  wall,  for  it  was  understood 
that  these  two  men  fought  only  with  knives/so  the  specta- 
tors were  in  a  state  of  abject  safety. 

The  Judge,  after  settling  for  the  drinks,  turned,  and  saw 
for  the  first  time  his  enemy. 

"  Hello,  Billy  ! "  said  he,  pleasantly  ;  "  let's  take  a  drink 
first." 

Billy,  who  was  a  red-haired  man,  with  a  snapping-turtle 
mouth,  but  not  a  vicious-looking  man  for  all  that,  briefly 
replied,  "All  right,"  and  these  two  determined  enemies 
clinked  their  glasses  with  the  unconcern  of  mere  social 
drinkers. 

But,  after  this,  they  proceeded  promptly  to  business ; 
the  Judge,  who  was  rather  slow  on  his  guard,  was  the  owner 
of  a  badly  cut  arm  within  three  minutes  by  the  bar-keeper's 
watch,  but  not  until  he  had  given  Billy,  who  was  parrying  a 
thrust,  an  ugly  gash  in  his  left  temple. 

There  was  a  busy  hum  during  the  adjustment  of  bets  on 
"first  blood,"  and  the  combatants  very  considerately  re- 
frained from  doing  serious  injury  during  this  temporary 
distraction ;  but  within  five  minutes  more  they  had  exchanged 
chest  wounds,  but  too  slight  to  be  dangerous. 

Betting  became  furious — each  man  fought  so  splendidly, 
that  the  boys  were  wild  with  delight  and  enthusiasm.  Bets 
were  roared  back  and  forth,  and  when  Pentecost,  by  virtue 
of  his'  universally  conceded  authority,  commanded  silence,, 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  finger-telegraphy  across  the  circle, 
and  head-shaking  in  return. 

Such  exquisite  carving  had  never  before  been  seen  afc 
Hanney's — that  was  freely  admitted  by  all.  Men  pitied 
absent  miners  all  over  the  State,  and  wondered  why  this 
delightful  lingering,  long-drawn-out  system  of  slaughter  was 


THE   DOCTOR   AT    HAND.  77 

not  more  popular  than  the  brief  and  commonplace  method 
of  the  revolver.  The  Webfoot  rapturously  and  softly  quoted 
the  good  Doctor  Watt's : 

"  My  willing  soul  would  stay 
In  such  a  place  as  this, 
And " 

when  suddenly  his  cup  of  bliss  was  dashed  to  the  ground, 
for  Billy,  stumbling,  fell  upon  his  own  knife,  and  received  a 
severe  cut  in  the  abdomen. 

Wounds  of  this  sort  are  generally  fatal,  and  the  boys  had 
experience  enough  in  such  matters  to  know  it.  In  an 
instant  the  men  who  had  been  calmly  viewing  a  life-and- 
death  conflict  bestirred  themselves  to  help  the  sufferer. 
Pentecost  passed  the  bottle  of  brandy  over  the  counter ;  half 
a  dozen  men  ran  to  the  spring  for  cold  water ;  others  hastily 
tore  off  coats,  and  even  shirts,  with  which  to  soften  a  bench 
for  the  wounded  man.  No  one  went  for  the  Doctor,  for  that 
•worthy  had  been  viewing  the  fight  professionally  from  the 
first,  and  had  knelt  beside  the  wounded  man  at  exactly  the 
right  moment.  After  a  brief  examination,  he  gave  his 
opinion  in  the  following  professional  style  : 

"  No  go,  Billy  ;  you're  done  for." 

"  Good  God ! "  exclaimed  the  Judge,  who  had  watched 
the  Doctor  with  breathless  interest ;  "ain't  ther'  no  chance  ?" 

"  Nary,"  replied  the  Doctor,  decidedly. 

"  I'm  a  ruined  man — I'm  a  used-up  cuss,"  said  the  Judge, 
with  a  look  of  bitter  anguish.  "  I  wish  I'd  gone  under, 
too." 

"  Easy,  old  hoss,"  suggested  one  of  the  boys ;  "  you  didn't 
do  him,  yer  know." 

"  That's  what's  the  matter !"  roared  the  Judge,  savagely; 
"  nobody  '11  ever  know  which  of  us  whipped. 

And  the  Judge  sorrowfully  took  himself  off,  declining 
most  resolutely  to  drink. 

Many  hearts  were  full  of  sympathy  for  the  Judge  ;  but 
the  poor  fellow  on  the  bench  seemed  to  need  most  just  then. 


78  "CAN'T  NOBODY  PRAY?" 

He  had  asked  for  some  one  who  could  write,  and  was  dic- 
tating, in  whispers,  a  letter  to  some  person.  Then  he  drank 
some  brandy,  and  then  some  water ;  then  he  freely  acquitted 
the  Judge  of  having  ever  fought  any  way  but  fairly.  But 
still  his  mind  seemed  burdened.  Finally,  in  a  very  thin, 
weak  voice,  he  stammered  out : 

"  I  don't  want — to  make — to  make  it  uncomfortable — for 
—for  any  of — you  fellers,  but — is  ther'  a — a  preacher  in  the 
camp  ?" 

The  boys  looked  at  each  other  inquiringly  ;  men  from 
every  calling  used  to  go  to  the  mines,  and  no  one  would 
have  been  surprised  if  a  backsliding  priest,  or  even  bishop, 
had  stepped  to  the  front.  But  none  appeared,  and  the 
wounded  man,  after  looking  despairingly  from  one  to- 
another,  gave  a  smothered  cry. 

"  Oh,  God,  hez  a  miserable  wretch  got  to  cut  hisself  open, 
and  then  flicker  out,  without  anybody  to  say  a  prayer  for 
him?" 

The  boys  looked  sorrowful — if  gold-dust  could  have 
bought  prayers,  Billy  would  have  had  a  first-class  assort- 
ment in  an  instant. 

"  There's  Deacon  Adams  over  to  Pattin's,"  suggested  a 
bystander ;  "  an'  they  do  say  he's  a  reg'lar  rip-roarer  at 
prayin' !  But 'twould  take  four  hours  to  go  and  fetch  him." 

"  Too  long,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"Down  in  Mexico,  at  th'e  cathedral,"  said  another, 
"  they  pray  for  a  feller  after  he's  dead,  when  }*er  pay  'em  fur 
it,  an'  they  say  it's  jist  the  thing — sure  pop.  I'll  give  yer 
iny  word,  Billy,  an'  110  go  back,  that  I'll  see  the  job  done  up 
in  style  fur  yer,  ef  that's  any  comfort." 

"  I  want  to  hear  it  myself,"  groaned  the  sufferer ;  "  I 
don't  feel  right ;  can't  nobody  pray — nobody  in  the  crowd  ?  " 

Again  the  boys  looked  inquiringly  at  each  other,  but 
this  time  it  was  a  little  shyly.  If  he  had  asked  for  some  one 
to  go  out  and  steal  a  mule,  or  kill  a  bear,  or  gallop  a  buck- 
jumping  mustang  to  'Frisco,  they  would  have  fought  for  the 
chance ;  but  praying — praying  was  entirely  out  of  their  line,. 


THE   PRAYER.  79 

The  silence  became  painful :  soon  slouched  hats  were 
hauled  down  over  moist  eyes,  and  shirt-sleeves  and  bare 
arms  seemed  to  find  something  unusual  to  attend  to  in  the 
boys'  faces.  Big  Brooks  commenced  to  blubber  aloud,  and 
was  led  out  by  old  Thompson,  who  wanted  a  chance  to  get 
out  of  doors  so  he  might  break  down  in  private.  Finally 
matters  were  brought  to  a  crisis  by  Mose — no  one  knew  his 
other  name.  Mose  uncovered  a  sandy  head,  face  and  beard, 
and  remarked : 

"  I  don't  want  to  put  on  airs  in  this  here  crowd,  but  ef 
nobody  else  ken  say  a  word  to  the  Lord  about  Billy  Bent, 
I'm  a-goin'  to  do  it  myself.  It's  a  bizness  I've  never  bin  in, 
but  ther's  nothin'  like  tryin'.  This  meetin'  '11  cum  to  order 
to  wunst." 

"  Hats  off  in  church,  gentlemen ! "  commanded  Pentecost. 

Off  came  every  hat,  and  some  of  the  boys  knelt  down,  as 
Mose  knelt  beside  the  bench,  and  said : 

"  Oh,  Lord,  here's  Billy  Bent  needs  'tendin'  to  !  He's 
panned  out  his  last  dust,  an'  he  seems  to  hev  a  purty  clear 
idee  that  this  is  his  last  chance.  He  wants  you  to  give  him 
a  lift,  Lord,  an'  it's  the  opinion  of  this  house  thet  he  needs, 
it.  'Taiii't  none  of  our  bizness  what  he's  done,  an'  ef  it  wuz, 
you'd  know  more  about  it  than  we  cud  tell  yer ;  but  it's 
mighty  sartin  that  a  cuss  that's  been  in  the  diggins  fur  years 
needs  a  sight  of  mendiii'  up  before  he  kicks  the  bucket." 

"  That's  so,"  responded  two  or  three,  very  emphatically. 

"  Billy's  down,  Lord,  an'  no  decent  man  b'lieves  that  the 
Lord  'ud  hit  a  man  when  he's  down,  so  there's  one  or  two 
things  got  to  be  done — either  he's  got  to  be  let  alone,  or  he's 
got  to  be  helped.  Lettin'  him  alone  won't  do  him  or  any- 
body else  enny  good,  so  helpin's  the  holt,  an'  as  enny  one  uv 
us  tough  fellers  would  help  ef  we  knew  how  to,  it's  only  fair 
to  suppose  thet  the  Lord  '11  do  it  a  mighty  sight  quicker. 
Now,  what  Billy  needs  is  to  see  the  thing  in  thet  light,  an' 
you  ken  make  him  do  it  a  good  deal  better  than  ive  ken.  It's 
mighty  little  fur  the  Lord  to  do,  but  it's  meat  an'  drink  an' 
clothes  to  Billy  just  now.  When  we  wuz  boys,  sum  uv  us 


80  THE  BLESSING. 

read  some  promises  ef  you'rn  in  thet  Book  thet  wes  writ  a 
good  spell  ago  by  chaps  in  the  Old  Country,  an'  though 
Sunday-school  teachers  and  preachers  mixed  the  matter  up 
in  our  minds,  an'  got  us  all  tangle-footed,  we  know  they're 
dar,  an'  you'll  know  what  we  mean.  Now,  Lord,  Billy's  jest 
the  boy— he's  a  hard  case,  so  you  can  t  find  no  better  stuff 
to  work  on— he's  in  a  bad  fix,  thet  we  can't  do  nuthin'  fur,  so 
it's  jest  yer  chance.  He  ain't  exactly  the  chap  to  make  an  A 
Number  One  Angel  ef,  but  he  ain't  the  man  to  forget  a 
friend,  so  he'll  be  a  handy  feller  to  hev  aroun'." 

"Feel  any  better,  Billy?"  said  Mose,  stopping  the 
prayer  for  a  moment.  « 

"A  little,"  said  Billy,  feebly;  "but  you  want  to  tell  the. 
whole  yarn.     I'm  sorry  for  all  the  wrong  I've  done." 

"  He's  sorry  for  all  his  deviltry,  Lord— 

"  An'  I  ain't  got  nothin'  agin  the  Judge,"  continued  the 
sufferer. 

"An'  he  don't  bear  no  malice  agin  the  Judge,  which  he 
shouldn't,  seein'  he  generally  gin  as  good  as  he  took.  An' 
the  long  an'  short  of  it,  Lord,  is  jest 'this — he's  a  dyin',  an' 
he  wants  a  chance  to  die  with  his  mind  easy,  an'  nobody 
else  can  make  it  so,  so  we  leave  the  whole  job  in  your  hands, 
only  puttin'  in,  fur  Billy's  comfort,  thet  we  recollect  hearing 
how  yer  forgiv'  a  dyin'  thief,  an'  thet  it  ain't  likely  yer 
a-goin'  to  be  harder  on  a  chap  thet's  alwas  paid  fur  what  he 
got.  Thet's  the  whole  story.  Amen." 

Billy's  hand,  rapidly  growing  cold,  reached  for  that  of 
Mose,  and  he  said,  with  considerable  effort : 

"  Mose,  yer  came  in  ez  handy  as  a  nugget  in  a  gone-up 
claim.  God  bless  yer,  Mose.  I  feel  better  inside.  Ef  I  get 
through  the  clouds,  an'  hev  a  livin'  chance  to  say  a  word  to 
them  as  is  the  chiefs  dar,  thet  word  11  be  fur  you,  Mose. 
God  bless  yer,  Mose,  an'  ef  my  blessin's  no  account,  it  can't 
cuss  yer,  ennyhow.  This  claim's  washed  out,  fellers,  an'  here 
goes  the  last  shovelful,  to  see  ef  ther's  enny  gold  in  it  er  not." 

And  Billy  departed  this  life,  and  the  boys  drank  to  the 
repose  of  his  soul. 


THE  NEW  SHEEIFF  OF  BUNKEK  COUNTY. 

TTE  suited  the  natives  exactly.  What  they  would  have 
_LL  done  had  he  not  been  available,  they  shuddered  to  con- 
template. The  county  was  so  new  a  one  that  but  three  men 
had  occupied  the  sheriff's  office  before  Charley  Mansell  was 
elected.  Of  the  three,  the  first  had  not  collected  taxes  witlj 
proper  vigor;  the  second  was  so  steadily  drunk  that 
aggrieved  farmers  had  to  take  the  law  in  their  own  hands 
regarding  horse-thieves  ;  the  third  was,  while  a  terrible  man 
on  the  chase  or  in  a  fight,  so  good-natured  and  lazy  at  other 
times,  that  the  county  came  to  be  overrun  with  rascals. 
But  Charley  Mansell  fulfilled  every  duty  of  his  office  with 
promptness  and  thoroughness.  He  was  not  very  well  known, 
to  be  sure,  but  neither  was  any  one  else  among  the  four  or 
five  thousand  inhabitants  of  the  new  county.  He  had 
arrived  about  a  year  before  election-day,  and  established 
himself  as  repairer  of  clocks  and  watches — an  occupation 
which  was  so  unprofitable  at  Bunkerville,  the  county  town, 
that  Charley  had  an  immense  amount  of  leisure  time  at  his 
disposal.  He  never  hung  about  the  stores  or  liquor-shop 
after  dark ;  he  never  told  doubtful  stories,  or  displayed 
unusual  ability  with  cards  ;  neither  did  he,  on  the  other 
hand,  identify  himself  with  either  of  the  Bunkerville  churches, 
and  yet  every  one  liked  him.  Perhaps  it  was  because,  although 
short,  he  was  straight  and  plump,  whereas  the  other  inhab- 
itants were  thin  and  bent  from  many  discouraging 'tussles 
with  ague  ;  perhaps  it  was  because  he  was  always  the  first 
to  see  the  actual  merits  and  demerits  of  any  subject  of  con- 


82  "  OH,   IF    I  WERE   SHERIFF  ! 

versation  ;  perhaps  it  was  because  lie  was  more  eloquent  in 
defense  of  what  he  believed  to  be  right  than  the  village 
pastors  were  in  defense  of  the  holy  truths  to  which  they 
were  committed  ;  perhaps  it  was  because  he  argued  Squire. 
Backett  out  of  foreclosing  a  mortgage  on  the  Widow  Worth 
when  every  one  else  feared  to  approach  the  squire  on  the 
subject ;  but,  no  matter  what  the  reason  was,  Charley  Man- 
sell  became  every  one's  favorite,  and  gave  no  one  an  excuse 
to  call  him  enemy.  He  took  no  interest  in  politics,  but  one 
day  when  a  brutal  ruffian,  who  had  assaulted  a  lame  native, 
escaped  because  the  easy-going  sheriff  was  too  slow  in  pur- 
suing, Charley  was  heard  to  exclaim,  "Oh,  if  I  were 
sheriff!"  The  man  who  heard  him  was  both  impression- 
able and  practical.  He  said  that  Charley's  face,  when  he 
made  that  remark,  looked  like  Christ's  might  have  looked 
when  he  was  angry,  but  the  hearer  also  remembered  that  the 
sheriff-incumbent's  term  of  office  had  nearly  expired,  and  he 
quietly  gathered  a  few  leading  spirits  of  each  political  party, 
with  the  result  that  Charley  was  nominated  and  elected  on 
a  "  fusion"  ticket.  When  elected,  Charley  properly  declined, 
on  the  ground  that  he  could  not  file  security  bonds  ;  but. 
within  half  an  hour  of  the  time  the  county  clerk  received 
the  letter  of  declination,  at  least  a  dozen  of  the  most  solid 
citizens  of  the  county  waited  upon  the  sheriff-elect  and 
volunteered  to  go  upon  his  bond,  so  Charley  became  sheriff 
in  spite  of  himself. 

And  he  acquitted  himself  nobly.  He  arrested  a  murderer 
the  very  day  after  his  sureties  were  accepted,  and  although 
Charley  was  by  far  the  smaller  and  paler  of  the  two,  the 
murderer  submitted  tamely,  and  dared  not  look  into  Char- 
ley's eye.  Instead  of  scolding  the  delinquent  tax-payers, 
the  new  sheriff  sympathized  with  them,  and  the  county 
treasury  filled  rapidly.  The  self-appointed  "regulators" 
caught  a  horse-thief  a  week  or  two  after  Charley's  install- 
ment into  office,  and  were  about  to  quietly  hang  him,  after 
the  time-honored  custom  of  Western  regulators,  when  Char- 
ley dashed  into  the  crowd,  pointed  his  pistol  at  the  head  of 


CIVILIZATION  MOVES  IN  QUEER  CONVEYANCES.  83' 

Deacon  Bent,  the  leader  of  the  enraged  citizens,  remarked 
that  all  sorts  of  murder  were  contrary  to  the  law  he  had 
sworn  to  maintain,  and  then  led  the  thief  off  to  jail.  The 
regulators  were  speechless  with  indignation  for  the  space  of 
five  minutes — then  they  hurried  to  the  jail ;  and  when 
Charley  Mansell,  with  pale  face  but  set  teeth,  again  pre- 
sented his  pistol,  they  astonished  him  with  three  roaring 
cheers,  after  which  each  man  congratulated  him  on  his- 
courage. 

In  short,  Bunkerville  became  a  quiet  place.  The  new 
sheriff  even  went  so  far  as  to  arrest  the  disturbers  of  camp- 
meetings  ;  yet  the  village  boys  indorsed  him  heartily,  and 
would,  at  his  command,  go  to  jail  in  squads  of  half  a  dozen 
with  no  escort  but  the  sheriff  himself.  Had  it  not  been  that 
Charley  occasionally  went  to  prayer-meetings  and  churchr 
not  a  rowdy  at  Bunkerville  could  have  found  any  fault  with 
him. 

But  not  even  in  an  out-of-the-way,  malarious  Missouri 
village,  could  a  model  sheriff  be  for  ever  the  topic  of  conver- 
sation. Civilization  moved  forward  in  that  part  of  the 
world  in  very  queer  conveyances  sometimes,  and  with  con- 
siderable friction.  Gamblers,  murderers,  horse  -  thieves, 
counterfeiters,  and  all  sorts  of  swindlers,  were  numerous  in 
lauds  so  near  the  border,  and  Bunkerville  was -not  neglected 
by  them.  Neither  greenbacks  nor  national  bank-notes  were 
known  at  that  time,  and  home  productions,  in  the  financial 
direction,  being  very  unpopular,  there  was  a  decided  prefer- 
ence exhibited  for  the  notes  of  Eastern  banks.  And  no 
sooner  would  the  issues  of  any  particular  bank  grow  very 
popular  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bunkerville  than  merchants 
began  to  carefully  examine  every  note  bearing  the  name  of 
said  bank,  lest  haply  some  counterfeiter  had  endeavored  to 
assist  in  supplying  the  demand.  At  one  particular  time  tlio 
suspicions  had  numerous  and  well-founded  grounds ;  whero 
they  came  from  nobody  knew,  but  the  county  was  full  of 
them,  and  full,  too,  of  wretched  people  who  held  the  doubtful 
notes.  It  was  the  usual  habit  of  the  Bunkerville  merchants- 


84  "  REGULATORS  "  ASSIST   THE   SHERIFF. 

to  put  the  occasional  counterfeits  which  they  received  into 
the  drawer  with  their  good  notes,  and  pass  them  when  un- 
conscious of  the  fact ;  but  at  the  time  referred  to  the  bad 
notes  were  all  on  the  same  bank,  and  it  was  not  easy  work 
to  persuade  the  natives  to  accept  even  the  genuine  issues. 
The  merchants  sent  for  the  sheriff,  and  the  sheriff  questioned 
hostlers,  liquor-sellers,  ferry-owners,  tollgate-keepers,  and 
other  people  in  the  habit  of  receiving  money ;  but  the  ques- 
tions were  to  no  effect.  These  people  had  all  .suffered, 
but  at  the  hands  of  respectable  citizens,  and  no  worse  by 
one  than  by  another. 

Suddenly  the  sheriff  seemed  to  get  some  trace  of  the 
counterfeiters.  An  old  negro,  who  saw  money  so  seldom 
that  he  accurately  remembered  the  history  of  all  the  cur- 
rency in  his  possession,  had  received  a  bad  note  from  an 
emigrant  in  payment  for  some  hams.  A  fortnight  later,  he 
sold  some  feathers  to  a  different  emigrant,  and  got  a  note 
which  neither  the  store-keeper  or  liquor-seller  would  accept ; 
the  negro  was  sure  the  wagon  and  horses  of  the  second  emi- 
grant were  the  same  as  those  of  the  first.  Then  the  sheriff 
mounted  his  horse  and  gave  chase.  He  needed  only  to  ask  the 
natives  along  the  road  leading  out  of  Bunkerville  to  show 
him  any  money  they  had  received  of  late,  to  learn  what 
route  the  wagon  had  taken  on  its  second  trip. 

About  this  time  the  natives  of  Bunkerville  began  to 
wonder  whether  the  young  sheriff  was  not  more  brave  than 
prudent.  He  had  started  without  associates  (for  he  had 
never  appointed  a  deputy);  he  might  have  a  long  chase, 
and  into  counties  where  he  was  unknown,  and  might  be 
dangerously  delayed.  The  final  decision — or  the  only  one 
of  any  consequence — was  made  by  four  of  the  "  regulators," 
who  decided  to  mount  and  hurry  after  the  sheriff  and  volun- 
teer their  aid.  By  taking  turns  in  riding  ahead  of  their  own 
party,  these  volunteers  learned,  at  the  end  of  the  first  day, 
that  Charley  could  not  be  more  than  ten  miles  in  advance. 
They  determined,  therefore,  to  push  on  during  the  night,  so 
long  as  they  could  be  sure  they  were  on  the  right  track. 


TO  THE  SHERIFF'S  RESCUE.  85 

An  hour  more  of  riding  brought  them  to  a  cabin  where 
they  received  startling  intelligence.  An  emigrant  wagon, 
drawn  by  very  good  horses,  had  driven  by  at  a  trot  which 
was  a  gait  previously  unheard  of  in  the  case  of  emigrant 
horses  ;  then  a  young  man  on  horseback  had  passed  at  a 
lively  gallop ;  a  few  moments  later  a  shot  had  been  heard  in 
the  direction  of  the  road  the  wagon  had  taken.  Why  hadn't 
the  owner  of  the  house  hurried  up  the  road  to  see  what  was 
the  matter  ? — Because  he  minded  his  own  business  and  staid 
in  the  house  when  he  heard  shooting,  he  said. 

"Come  on,  boys!"  shouted  Bill  Braymer,  giving  his 
panting  horse  a  touch  with  his  raw-hide  whip ;  "  perhaps 
the  sheriff's  needin'  help  this  minute.  An'  there's  generally 
rewards  when  counterfeiters  are  captured — mebbe  sheriff  '11 
give  us  a  share." 

The  whole  quartet  galloped  rapidly  off.  It  wras  growing 
dark,  but  there  was  no  danger  of  losing  a  road  which  was  the 
only  one  in  that  part  of  the  country.  As  they  approached  a 
clearing  a  short  distance  in  front  of  them,  they  saw  a  dart 
mass  in  the  centre  of  the  road,  its  outlines  indicating  an  em- 
igrant wagon  of  the  usual  type. 

"  There  they  are  ! "  shouted  Bill  Braymer ;  "  but  where's 
sheriff?  Good  Lord!  The  shot  must  have  hit  him!" 

"Reckon  it  did,"  said  Pete  "Williamson,  thrusting  his 
head  forward ;  "  there's  some  kind  of  an  animal  hid  behind 
that  wagon,  an'  it  don't  enjoy  bein'  led.  along,  lor  it's  kickiii' 
mighty  lively — shouldn't  wonder  if  'twas  Mansell's  own 
pony." 

" Hoss-thieves  too,  then?"  inquired  Braymer;  "then 
mebbe  there'll  be  two  rewards  ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Williamson's  younger  brother,  "  an'  me«bbe 
we're  leavin'  poor  Charley  a-dyiii'  along  behind  us  in  the 
bushes  somewhere.  Who'll  go  back  an'  help  hunt  for 
.him!" 

The  quartet  unconsciously  slackened  speed,  and  the 
members  thereof  gazed  rather  sheepishly  at  each  other 
through  the  gathering  twilight.  At  length  the  younger 


86  MAKING   HIS   WILL   ON  A   GALLOP. 

Williamson  abruptly  turned,  dismounted,  and  walked  slowly 
backward,  peering  in  the  bushes,  and  examining  all  indica- 
tions in  the  road.  The  other  three  resumed  "their  rapid 
gallop,  Pete  Williamson  remarking  : 

"  That  boy  alwus  wos  the  saint  of  the  family — look  out 
for  long  shot,  boys  ! — and  if  there's  any  money  in  this  job, 
he's  to  have  a  fair  share  of — that  is  sheriff 's  horse,  sure  as 
shootin' — he  shall  have  half  of  what  I  make  out  of  it. 
.How'll  we  take  'em,  boys  ?— Bill  right,  Sam  left,  and  me  the 
rear?  If  I  should  get  plugged,  an'  there's  any  money  for 
,tli3  crowd,  I'll  count  on  you  two  to  see  that  brother  Jim 
£ets  my  share — he's  got  more  the  mother  in  him  than  all 
four  of  us  other  brothers,  and — why  don't  they  shoot,  do 
you  s'pose  ?" 

"  P'r'aps  ther  ain't  nobody  but  the  driver,  an'  he's  got 
his  hands  full,  makin'  them  hosses  travel  along  that  lively," 
suggested  Bill  Braymer.  "  Or  mebbe  he  h'ain't  got  time  to 
load.  Like  enough  he's  captured  the  sheriff,  an'  is  a-takin 
Jiim  off.  We've  got  to  be  keerful  how  ice  shoot." 

The  men  gained  steadily  011  the  wagon,  and  finally  Bill 
Braymer  felt  sure  enough  to  shout  • 

"Halt,  or  we'll  fire!" 

The  only  response  was  a  sudden  flash  at  the  rear  of  the 
wagon ;  at  the  same  instant  the  challenger's  horse  fell  dead. 

" Hang  keerfulness  about  firm'!"  exclaimed  Braymer. 
""/'ra  a-goin'  to  blaze  away." 

Another  shot  came  from  the  wagon,  and  Williamson's 
horse  uttered  a  genuine  cry  of  anguish  and  stumbled.  The 
indignant  rider  hastily  dismounted,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  It's  mighty  kind  of  'em  not  to  shoot  us,  but  they  know 
how  to  get  away  all  the  same." 

"  They  know  too  much  about  shootin'  for  me  to  foller  'em 
any  more,"  remarked  the  third  man,  running  rapidly  out  of 
the  road  and  in  the  shadow  caused  by  a  tree. 

"  They  can't  keep  up  that  gait  for  ever,"  said  Bill  Bray- 
mer. "  I'm  goin'  to  foller  'em  on  foot,  if  it  takes  all  night;  I'll 
get  even  with  em  for  that  hoss  they've  done  me  out  of, " 


JIM  WILLIAMSON'S  DISCOVERY.  87 

"  I'm  with  you,  Bill,"  remarked  Pete  Williamson,  "  an* 
mebbe  we  can  snatch  their  hosses,  just  to  show  'em  how  it 
feels." 

The  third  man  lifted  up  his  voice.  "I  'How  I've  had 
enough  of  this  here  kind  of  thing,"  said  he,  "  an'  I'll  get 
back  to  the  settlement  while  there's  anything  for  me  to  get 
there  on.  I  reckon  you'll  make  a  haul,  but — I  don't  care — 
I'd  rather  bs  poor  than  spend  a  counterfeiter's  money." 

And  pff  he  rode,  just  as  the  younger  Williamson,  with 
refreshed  horse,  dashed  up,  exclaiming  : 

"  No  signs  of  him  back  yonder,  but  there's  blood-tracks 
baginnin'  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  an'  leanin'  along  this 
way.  Come  on ! " 

And  away  he  galloped,  while  his  brother  remarked  to 
his  companion : 

"  Ef  he  should  have  luck,  an'  get  the  reward,  you  be  sure 
to  tell  him  all  the  good  things  I've  said  about  him,  won't 
you?" 

Jim  Williamson  rode  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  wagon 
until,  finding  himself  alone,  and  remembering  what  had 
befallen  his  companions,  he  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  to  a 
tree,  and  pursued  rapidly  on  foot.  He  soon  saw  the  wagon 
looming  up  in  front  of  him  again,  and  was  puzzled  to  know 
how  to  reach  it  and  learn  the  truth,  when  the  wagon  turned 
abruptly  off  the  road,  and  apparently  into  the  forest. 

Following  as  closely  as  he  could  under  cover  of  the  tim- 
ber, he  found  that,  after  picking  its  way  among  the  trees  for 
a  mile,  it  stopped  before  a  small  log  cabin,  of  whose  exist- 
ence Jim  had  never  known  before. 

There  were  some  groans  plainly  audible  as  Jim  saw  one 
man  get  out  of  the  wagon  and  half  carry  and  half  drag 
another  man  into  the  hut.  A  moment  later,  and  a  streak  of 
light  appeared  under  the  door  of  the  hut,  and  there  seemed 
to  bo  no  windows  in  the  structure  ;  if  there  were,  they  were 
covered. 

Jim  remained  behind  a  sheltering  tree  for  what  seemed 
two  liouis,  and  then  stealthily  approached  the  wagon.  No 


88  THE  SHEMFF  AND  "  HEE  "  FATHER. 

one  was  in  it.  Then  lie  removed  his  boots  and  stole  on  tip- 
toe to  the  hut.  At  first  he  could  find  no  chink  or  crevice 
through  which  to  look,  but  finally,  on  one  side  of  the  log 
chimney,  he  spied  a  ray  of  light.  Approaching  the  hole  and 
applying  his  eye  to  it,  Jim  beheld  a  picture  that  startled 
him  into  utter  dumbness. 

On  the  floor  of  the  hut,  which  was  entirely  bare,  lay  a 
middle-aged  man,  with  one  arm  bandaged  and  bleeding. 
Seated  on  the  floor,  holding  the  head  of  the  wounded  man, 
and  raining  kisses  upon  it,  sat  Bunker  County's  sheriff! 

Then  Jim  heard  seme  conversation  which  did  not  in  the 
least  allay  his  astonishment. 

"  Don't  cry,  daughter,"  said  the  wounded  man,  faintly, 
"  I  deserve  to  be  shot  by  you — I  haven't  wronged  any  one 
else  half  so  much  as  I  have  you." 

Again  the  wounded  man  received  a  shower  of  kisses,  and 
hot  tears  fell  rapidly  upon  his  face. 

"Arrest  me — take  me  back — send  me  to  State's  prison," 
continued  the  man  ;  "  nobody  has  so  good  a  right.  Then  I'll 
feel  as  if  your  mother  was  honestly  avenged.  I'll  feel  better 
if  you'll  promise  to  do  it." 

"  Father,  dear,"  said  the. sheriff,  "I  might  have  suspected 
it  was  you — oh !  if  I  had  have  done  !  But  I  thought — I 
hoped  I  had  got  away  from  the  roach  of  the  cursed  business- 
for  ever.  I've  endured  everything — I've  nearly  died  of  lone- 
liness, to  avoid  it,  and  then  to  think  that  I  should  have  hurt 
my  own  father." 

"  You're  your  mother's  own  daughter,  Nellie,"  said  the 
counterfeiter ;  "  it  takes  all  the  pain  away  to  know  that  I 
haven't  ruined  you — that  some  member  of  my  wretched 
family  is  honest.  I'd  be  happy  in  a  prisoner's  box  if  I 
could  look  at  you  and  feel  that  you  put  me  there." 

"You  sha'n't  be  made  happy  in  that  way,"  said  the 
sheriff.  I've  got  you  again,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  you  to 
myself.  I'll  nurse  you  here — you  say  that  nobody  ever 
found  this  hut  but — but  the  gang,  and  when  you're  better 
the  wagon  shall  take  us  both  to  some  place  where  we  can  live 


THE   SHERIFF    KISSES   THE   PRISONER.  89 

or  starve  together.  Tlie  county  can  get  another  sheriff  easy 
enough." 

"  And  they'll  suspect  you  of  being  in  league  with  counter- 
feiters," said  the  father. 

"  They  may  suspect  me  of  anything  they  like  ! "  exclaimed 
the  sheriff,  "  so  you  love  me  and  be — be  your  own  best  self 
and  my  good  father".  But  this  bare  hut — not  a  comfort  that 
you  need — no  food — nothing — oh,  if  there  was  only  some 
one  who  had  a  heart,  and  could  help  us  !  " 

"  There  is ! "  whispered  Jim  "Williamson,  with  all  his 
might.  Both  occupants  started,  and  the  wounded  man's 
eyes  glared  like  a  wolf's. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  whispered  Jim  ;  "  I'm  yours, 
body  and  soul — the  devil  himself  would  be,  if  he'd  been 
standin'  at  this  hole  the  last  five  minutes.  I'm  Jim  William- 
son. Let  me  help  you  miss — sheriff." 

The  sheriff  blew  out  the  light,  opened  the  door,  called 
softly  to  Jim,  led  him  into  the  hut,  closed  the  door,  relighted 
the  candle  and — blushed..  Jim  looked  at  the  sheriff  out  of 
the  top  of  his  eyes,  and  then  blushed  himself — then  he 
looked  at  the  wounded  man.  There  was  for  a  moment  an 
awkward  silence,  which  Jim  broke  by  clearing  his  throat 
violently,  after  which  he  said  : 

"  Now,  both  of  you  make  your  minds  easy.  Nobody'll 
never  find  you  here — I've  hunted  through  all  these  woods, 
but  never  saw  this  cabin  before.  Arm  broke  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  counterfeiter,  "  bufr — but  it  runs  in  the 
family  to  shoot  ugly." 

Again  the  sheriff  kissed  the  man  repeatedly. 

"  Then  you  can  move  in  two  or  three  days,  said  Jim,  "  if 
you're  taken  care  of  rightly.  Nobody '11  suspect  anything 
wrong  about  the  sheriff,  ef  he  don't  turn  up  again  right  away. 
I'll  go  back  to  town,  throw  everybody  off  the  track,  and 
bring  out  a  few  things  to  make  you  comfortable." 

Jim  looked  at  the  sheriff  again,  blushed  again,  and 
started  for  the  door.  The  wounded  man  sprang  to  his  feet,, 
and  hoarsely  whispered : 


90  KISSES  THE  PRISONER'S  HAND. 

"  Swear — ask  God  to  send  you  to  hell  if  you  play  false- 
swear  by  everything  you  love  and  respect  and  hope  for,  that 
you  won't  let  my  daughter  be  disgraced  because  she  hap- 
pened to  have  a  rascal  for  her  father  ! " 

Jim  hesitated  for  a  moment ;  then  he  seized  the  sheriff's 
hand. 

"  I  ain't  used  to  swearin'  except  on  somethin'  I  can  see," 
said  he,  "  an'  the  bizness  is  only  done  in  one  way,"  with  this 
he  kissed  the  little  hand  in  his  own,  and  dashed  out  of  the 
cabin  with  a  very  red  face. 

"Within  ten  minutes  Jim  met  his  brother  and  Braymer. 

"  No  use,  boys,"  said  he,  "  might  as  well  go  back,  There 
ain't  no  fears  but  what  the  sheriff  '11  be  smart  enough  to  do 
'em  yet,  if  he's  alive,  an'  if  he's  dead  we  can't  help  him 
any." 

"  If  he's  dead,"  remarked  Bill  Braymer,  "  an'  there's  any 
pay  due  him,  I  hope  part  of  it  '11  come  for  these  horses. 
Mine's  dead,  an'  Pete's  might  as  well  be. 

"  Well,"  said  Jim,  "  I'll  go  on  to  town.  I  want  to  be  out 
early  in  the  mornin'  an'  see  ef  I  can't  get  a  deer,  an'  it's  time 
I  was  in  bed."  And  Jim  galloped  off. 

The  horse  and  man  which  might  have  been  seen  thread- 
ing the  woods  at  early  daybreak  on  the  following  morning, 
might  have  set  for  a  picture  of  one  of  Sherman's  bummers. 
For  a  month  afterward  Jim's  mother  bemoaned  the  unac- 
countable absence  of  a  tin  pail,  a  meal-bag,  two  or  three 
blankets,  her  only  pair  of  scissors,  and  sundry  other  useful 
articles,  while  her  sorrow  was  increased  by  the  fact  that  she 
had  to  replenish  her  household  stores  sooner  than  she  had 
expected. 

The  sheriff  examined  so  eagerly  the  articles  which  Jim 
deposited  in  rapid  succession  on  the  cabin- floor,  that  Jim 
had  nothing  to  do  but  look  at  the  sheriff,  which  he  did 
industriously,  though  not  exactly  to  his  heart's  content.  At 
last  the  sheriff  looked  up,  and  Jim  saw  two  eyes  full  of  tears, 
and  a  pair  of  lips  which  parted  and  trembled  in  a  manner 
very  unbecoming  in  a  sheriff. 


THE  SHERIFF'S  KETUKN.  91 

"  Don't,  please,"  said  Jim,  appealingly.  "  I  wish  I  could 
have  done  better  for  you,  but  somehow  I  couldn't  think  of 
nothin'  in  the  house  that  was  fit  for  a  woman,  except  the 
scissors." 

"  Don't  think  about  me  at  all,"  said  the  sheriff,  quickly. 
"  I  care  for  nothing  for  myself.  Forget  that  I'm  alive." 

"  I — I  can't,"  stammered  Jim,  looking  as  guilty  as  forty 
counterfeiters  rolled  into  one.  The  sheriff  turned  away 
quickly,  while  the  father  called  Jim  to  his  side. 

"Young  man,"  said  he,  "you've  been  as  good  as  an  angel 
could  have  been,  but  if  you  suspect  her  a  minute  of  being 
my  accomplice,  may  heaven  blast  you !  I  taught  her  engrav- 
ing, villain  that  I  was,  but  when  she  found  out  what  the 
work  really  was,  I  thought  she'd  have  died.  She  begged 
and  begged  that  I'd  give  the  business  up,  and  I  promised 
and  promised,  but  it  isn't  easy  to  get  out  of  a  crowd  of  your 
own  kind,  particularly  when  you're  not  so  much  of  a  man  as 
you  should  be.  At  last  she  got  sick  of  waiting,  and  ran 
away — then  I  grew  desperate  and  worse  than  -ever.  I've 
been  searching  everywhere  for  her ;  you  don't  suppose 
a  smart — smart  counterfeiter  has  to  get  rid  of  his  money  in 
the  way  I've  been  doing,  do  you  ?  I  traced  her  to  this  part 
of  the  State,  and  I've  been  going  over  the  roads  again  and 
again  trying  to  find  her ;  but  I  never  saw  her  until  she  put 
this  hole  through  my  arm  last  night." 

"I  hadn't  any  idea  who  you  were,"  interrupted  the 
sheriff,  with  a  face  so  full  of  mingled  indignation,  pain  and 
tenderness,  that  Jim  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him  take  his 
eyes  from  it. 

"  Don't  let  any  one  suspect  her,  young  man,"  continued 
the  father.  "  I'll  stay  within  reach — deliver  me  up,  if  it 
should  be  necessary  to  clear  her" 

"  Trust  to  me,"  said  Jim.  "  I  know  a  man  when  I  see 
him,  even  if  he  is  a  woman." 

Two  days  later  the  sheriff  rode  into  town,  leading  behind 
him  the  counterfeiter's  horses,  with  the  wagon  and  its  con- 
tents, with  thousands  of  dollars  in  counterfeit  money.  The 


92  *  DECLINES  TO   KUN  FOR   CONGRESS. 

counterfeiter  had  escaped,  be  said,  and    he  had  wounded 
him. 

Bunkerville  ran  wild  with  enthusiasm,  and  when  the 
sheriff  insisted  upon  paying  out  of  his  own  pocket  the  value 
of  Braymer's  and  Williamson's  horses,  men  of  all  parties 
agreed  that  Charley  Mansell  should  be  run  for  Congress  on 
an  independent  ticket. 

But  the  sheriff  declined  the  honor,  and,  declaring  that  he 
had  heard  of  the  serious  illness  of  his  father,  insisted  upon 
resigning  and  leaving  the  country.  Like  an  affectionate  son, 
he  purchased  some  dress-goods,  which  he  said  might  please 
his  mother,  and  then  he  departed,  leaving  the  whole  town 
in  sorrow. 

There  was  one  man  at  Bunkerville  who  did  not  suffer  so 
severely  as  he  might  have  done  by  the  sheriff's  departure, 
had  not  his  mind  been  full  of  strange  thoughts.  Pete 
Williamson  began  to  regard  his  brother  with  suspicion,  and 
there  seemed  some  ground  for  his  feeling.  Jim  was  un- 
naturally quiet  and  abstracted  ;  he  had  been  a  great  deal 
with  the  sheriff  before  that  official's  departure,  and  yet  did 
not  seem  to  be  on  as  free  and  pleasant  terms  with  him  as 
before.  So  Pete  slowly  gathered  a  conviction  that  the 
sheriff  was  on  the  track  of  a  large  reward  from  the  bank 
injured  by  the  counterfeiter ;  that  Jim  was  to  have  a  share 
for  his  services  on  the  eventful  night ;  that  there  was  some 
disagreement  between  them  on  the  subject,  and  that  Jim 
was  trying  the  unbrotherly  trick  of  keeping  his  luck  a  secret 
from  the  brother  who  had  resolved  to  fraternally  share  any- 
thing he  might  have  obtained  by  the  chase.  Finally,  when 
Pete  charged  his  brother  with  the  unkindness  alluded  to, 
and  Jim  looked  dreadfully  confused,  Pete's  suspicions  were- 
fully  confirmed. 

The  next  morning  Jim  and  his  horse  were  absent,  ascer- 
taining which  fact,  the  irate  Peter  started  in  pursuit.  For 
several  days  he  traced  his  brother,  and  finally  learned  that 
he  was  at  a  hotel  on  the  Iowa  border.  The  landlord  said 
that  he  couldn't  be  seen ;  lie,  and  a  handsome  young  fellow,. 


THE    SORT    OF     DEER    HE    GOT. 


93 


with,  a  big  trunk,  and  a  tall,  thin  man,  and  ex-Judge  Bates, 
were  busy  together,  and  had  left  word  they  weren't  to  be 
disturbed  for  a  couple  of  hours  on  any  account.  Could  Pete 
hang  about  the  door  of  the  room,  so  as  to  see  him  as  soon 
us  possible  ? — he  was  his  brother.  Well,  yes  ;  the  landlord 
thought  there  wouldn't  be  any  harm  in  that. 

The  unscrupulous  Peter  put  his  eye  to  the  keyhole ;  lie 
saw  the  sheriff  daintily  dressed,  and  as  pretty  a  lady  as  ever 
was,  in  spite  of  her  short  hair ;  he  heard  the  judge  say : 

<;  By  virtue  of  the  authority  in  me  vested  by  the  State  of 
Iowa,  I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife  ;"  and  then,  with  vacant 
countenance,  he  sneaked  slowly  away,  murmuring : 

"  That's  the  sort  of  reward  he  got,  is  it?  And,"  con- 
tinued Pete,  after  a  moment,  which  was  apparently  one  of 
special  inspiration,  "  I'll  bet  that's  the  kind  of  deer  he  said 
he  was  goin'  fur  011  the  morning  after  the  chase." 


MAJOR  MARTT'S  FRIEND. 

EAST  PATTEN  was  one  of  the  quietest  places  in  the  world. 
The  indisposition  of  a  family  horse  or  cow  was  cause 
for  animated  general  conversation,  and  the  displaying  of  a 
new  poster  or  prospectus  011   the  post-office  door  was  the 
signal  for  a  spirited  gathering  of  citizens. 

Why,  therefore,  Major  Martt  had  spent  tne  whole  of 
three  successive  leaves-of-absence  at  East  Patten,  where  he 
hadn't  a  relative,  and  where  no  other  soldier  lived,  no  one 
could  imagine.  Even  professional  newsmakers  never  as- 
signed any  reason  for  it,  for  although  their  vigorous  and 
experienced  imaginations  were  fully  capable  of  forming  some 
plausible  theory  on  the  subject  of  the  major's  fondness  for 
East  Patten,  they  shrank  from  making  public  the  results  of 
any  such  labors. 

It  was  perfectly  safe  to  circulate  some  purely  original 
story  about  any  ordinary  citizen,  but  there  was  no  knowing 
how  a  military  man  might  treat  such  a  matter  when  it 
reached  his  ears,  as  it  was  morally  sure  to  do. 

Live  military  men  had  not  been  seen  in  East  Patten 
since  the  Revolutionary  War,  three-quarters  of  a  century 
before  the  villagers  first  saw  Major  Martt ;  and  such 
soldiers  as  had  been  revealed  to  East  Patten  through  the 
medium  of  print  were  as  dangerous!}'  touchy  as  the  hair- 
triggers  of  their  favorite  weapons. 

So  East  Patten  let  the  major's  private  affairs  alone,  and 
was  really  glad  to  see  the  major  in  person.  There  was  a 
scarcity  of  men  at  East  Patten— of  interesting  men,  at  least, 


EAST  PATTEN   WAS   ONE  OF  THE  QUIETEST  PLACES  IN  THE  WOULD 

95 


THE    MAJOR    NOT    A    MARRYING    T.IAK  97 

for  the  undoubted  sanctity  of  the  old  men  lent  no  special 
graces  to  their  features  or  manners ;  while  the  young  men 
were  merely  the  residuum  of  an  active  emigration  which  had 
for  some  years  been  setting  westward  from  East  Patten. 

When,  therefore,  the  tall,  straight  broad-shouldered, 
clear-eyed,  much-whiskered  major  appeared  on  the  street, 
looking  (as  he  always  did)  as  if  he  had  just  been  shaved, 
brushed  and  polished,  the  sight  was  an  extremely  pleasing 
one,  except  to  certain  young  men  who  feared  for  the  validity 
of  their  titles  to  their  respective  sweethearts  should  the 
major  chance  to  be  affectionate. 

But  the  major  gave  no  cause  for  complaint.  When  he 
first  came  to  the  village  he  bought  Rose  Cottage,  opposite 
the  splendid  Wittleday  property,  and  he  spent  most  of  his 
time  (his  leave-of-absence  always  occurring  in  the  Summer 
season)  in  his  garden,  trimming  his  shrubs,  nursing  his 
flowering-plants,  growing  magnificent  roses,  and  in  all  ways 
acting  utterly  unlike  a  man  of  blood.  Occasionally  he 
played  a  game  of  chess  with  Parson  Fisher,  the  jolly  ex- 
clergyman,  or  smoked  a  pipe  with  the  sadler-postmaster ;  he 
attended  all  the  East  Patten  tea-parties,  too,  but  he  made 
himself  so  uniformly  agreeable  to  all  the  ladies  that 
the  mothers  in  Israel  agreed  with  many  sighs,  that  the 
major  was  not  a  marrying  man. 

It  may  easily  be  imagined,  then,  that  when  one  Summer 
the  major  reappeared  at  East  Patten  with  a  brother  officer 
who  was  young  and  reasonably  good-looking,  the  major's 
popularity  did  not  diminish. 

The  young  man  was  introduced  as  Lieutenant  Doyson, 
who  had  once  saved  the  major's  life  by  a  lucky  shot,  as  that 
chieftain,  with  empty  pistols,  was  trying  to  escape  from  a 
well-mounted  Indian ;  and  all  the  }7oung  ladies  in  town  de- 
clared they  knew  the  lieutenant  must  have  done  something 
wonderful,  he  was  so  splendid. 

But,  with  that  fickleness  which  seems  in  some  way  com- 
municable from  wicked  cities  to  virtuous  villages,  East 
Patten  suddenly  ceased  to  exhibit  unusual  interest  in  the 

G 


98  THE    WIDOW    LAYS    ASIDE    HER    WEEDS. 

pair  of  warriors,  for  a  new  excitement  had  convulsed  the 
village  mind  to  its  very  centre. 

It  was  whispered  that  Mrs.  Wittleday,  the  sole  and 
widowed  owner  of  the  great  Wittleday  property,  had 
wearied  of  the  mourning  she  wore  for  the  husband  she  had 
buried  two  years  previously,  and  that  she  would  soon 
publicly  announce  the  fact  by  laying  aside  her  weeds  and 
giving  a  great  entertainment,  to  which  every  one  was  to  be 
invited. 

There  was  considerable  high-toned  deprecation  of  so 
early  a  cessation  of  Mrs.  Wittleday's  sorrowing,  she  being 
still  young  and  handsome,  and  there  was  some  fault  found 
on  the  economic  ground  that  the  widow  couldn't  yet  have 
half  worn  out  her  mourning-garments  ;  but  as  to  the  pro- 
priety of  her  giving  an  entertainment,  the  voices  of  East 
Patten  were  as  one  in  the  affirmative. 

Such  of  the  villagers  as  had  chanced  to  sit  at  meat  with 
the  late  Scott  Wittleday,  had  reported  that  dishes  with  un- 
remembered  foreign  names  were  as  plenty  as  were  the 
plainer  viands  on  the  tables  of  the  old  inhabitants;  such 
East  Pattenites  as  had  not  been  entertained  at  the  Wittle- 
day board  rejoiced  in  a  prospect  of  believing  by  sight  as 
well  as  by  faith. 

The  report  proved  to  have  unusually  good  foundation. 
Within  a  fortnight  each  respectable  househoulder  received 
a  note  intimating  that  Mrs.  Wittleday  would  be  pleased 
to  see  self  and  family  on  the  evening  of  the  following 
Thursday. 

The  time  was  short,  and  the  resources  of  the  single  storo 
at  East  Patten  were  limited,  but  the  natives  did  their  best, 
and  the  eventful  evening  brought  to  Mrs.  Wittleday's  hand- 
some parlors  a  few  gentlemen  and  ladies,  and  a  large  number 
of  good  people,  who,  with  all  the  heroism  of  a  forlorn  hope, 
were  doing  their  best  to  appear  at  ease  and  happy. 

The  major  and  lieutenant  were  there,  of  course,  and  both 
in  uniform,  by  special  request  of  the  hostess.  The  major, 
who  had  met  Mrs.  Wittleday  in  city  society  before  her 


THE    MAJOR    ADVISES    THE    SUBALTERN.  99 

husband's  death,  and  who  had  maintained  a  bowing-acquaint- 
ance with  her  during  her  widowhood,  gravely  presented  the 
lieutenant  to  Mrs.  Wittleday,  made  a  gallant  speech  about 
the  debt  society  owed  to  her  for  again  condescending  to 
smile  upon  it,  and  then  presented  his  respects  to  the  nearest 
of  the  several  groups  of  ladies  who  were  gazing  invitingly 
at  him. 

Then  he  summoned  the  lieutenant  (whose  reluctance  to 
leave  Mrs.  Wittleday 's  side  was  rendered  no  less  by  a  bright 
smile  which  that  lady  gave  him  as  he  departed),  and  made 
him  acquainted  with  ladies  of  all  ages,  and  of  greatly  vary- 
ing personal  appearance.  The  young  warrior  went  through 
the  ordeal  with  only  tolerable  composure,  and  improved  his 
first  opportunity  to  escape  and  regain  the  society  of  the 
hostess.  Two  or  three  moments  later,  just  as  Mrs.  "Wittle- 
day turned  aside  to  speak  to  stately  old  Judge  Bray,  the 
lieutenant  found  himself  being  led  rapidly  toward  the 
veranda.  The  company  had  not  yet  found  its  way  out  of  the 
parlors  to  any  extent,  so  the  major  locked  the  lieutenant's 
arm  in  his  own,  commenced  a  gentle  promenade,  and  re- 
marked : 

"  Fred,  my  boy,  you're  making  an  ass  of  yourself." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  major,"  answered  the  young  man,  with 
considerable  impatience.  "  I  don't  want  to  know  all  these 
queer,  old-fashioned  people  ;  they're  worse  than  a  lot  of 
plebes  at  West  Point." 

"  I  don't  mean  that,  Fred,  though,  if  you  don't  want  to 
make  talk,  you  must  make  yourself  agreeable.  But  you're 
too  attentive  to  Mrs.  Wittleday." 

"  By  George,"  responded  the  lieutenant,  eagerly,  "  how- 
can  I  help  it  ?  She's  divine  ! " 

"A  great  many  others  think  so,  too,  Fred — I  do  myself 
— but  they  don't  make  it  so  plagued  evident  on  short  ac- 
quaintance. Behave  yourself,  now — your  eyesight  is  good — 
sit  down  and  play  the  agreeable  to  some  old  lady,  and  look 
at  Mrs.  Wittleday  across  the  room,  as  often  as  you  like." 

The  lieutenant  was  young  ;  his  face  was  not  under  good 


100  "STEADY,  FEED  —  STEADY!" 

•control,  and  he  had  no  whiskers,  and  very  little  mustache  to 
hide  it,  so,  although  he  obeyed  the  order  of  his  superior,  it 
was  with  a  visage  so  mournful  that  the  major  imagined, 
^vhen  once  or  twice  he  caught  Mrs.  "Wittleday's  eye,  that 
that  handsome  lady  was  suffering  from  restrained  laughter. 

Humorous  as  the  affair  had  seemed  to  the  major  before, 
he  could  not  endure  to  have  his  preserver's  sorrow  the  cause 
of  merriment  in  any  one  else ;  so,  deputing  Parson  Fisher  to 
make  their  excuse  to  the  hostess  when  it  became  possible 
to  penetrate  the  crowd  which  had  slowly  surrounded  her,  the 
major  took  his  friend's  arm  and  returned  to  the  cottage. 

"Major!"  exclaimed  the  subaltern,  "I — I  half  wish  I'd 
let  that  Indian  catch  you ;  then  you  wouldn't  have  spoiled 
the  pleasantest  evening  I  ever  had — ever  began  to  have,  I 
should  say." 

"  You  wouldn't  have  had  an  evening  at  East  Patten  then, 
Fred,"  said  the  major,  with  a  laugh,  as  he  passed  the  cigars, 
and  lit  one  himself.  "  Seriously,  my  boy,  you  must  be  more 
careful.  You  came  here  to  spend  a  pleasant  three  months 
with  me,  and  the  first  time  you're  in  society  you  act,  to  a 
lady  you  never  saw  before,  too,  in  such  a  way,  that  if  it  had 
been  any  one  but  a  lady  of  experience,  she  would  have 
imagined  you  in  love  with  her." 

"I  am  in  love  with  her,"  declared  the'young  man,  with  a 
look  which  was  intended  to  be  defiant,  but  which  was 
noticeably  shamedfaced.  "  I'm  going  to  tell  her  so,  too — 
that  is,  I'm  going  to  write  her  about  it." 

"Steady,  Fred  —  steady!"  urged  the  major,  kindly. 
"  She'd  be  more  provoked  than  pleased.  Don't  you  sup- 
pose fifty  men  have  worshiped  her  at  first  sight  ?  They 
have,  and  she  knows  it,  too — but  it  hasn't  troubled  her  mind 
at  all :  handsome  women  know  they  turn  men's  heads  in 
that  way,  and  they  generally  respect  the  men  who  are  sensi- 
ble enough  to  hold  their  tongues  about  it,  at  least  until 
there's  acquaintance  enough  between  them  to  justify  a  little 
confidence." 

"  Major,"  said  poor  Fred,  very  meekly,  almost  piteouly, 


COULDN'T  STAND  STILL  AND  BE  SHOT  AT.          101 

"  don't — don't  you  suppose  I  could  make  her  care  something 
forme?" 

The  major  looked  thoughtfully,  and  then  tenderly,  at  the 
cigar  he  held  between  his  fingers.  Finally  he  said,  very 
gently : 

"  My  dear  boy,  perhaps  you  could.  Would  it  be  fair, 
though?  Love  in  earnest  means  marriage.  Would  you  tor- 
ment a  poor  woman,  who's  lost  one  husband,  into  wondering 
three-quarters  of  the  time  whether  the  scalp  of  another  isn't 
in  the  hands  of  some  villainous  Apache  ?  " 

The  unhappy  lieutenant  hid  his  face  in  heavy  clouds  of 
tobacco  smoke. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  springing  to  his  feet,  and  pacing  the 
floor  like  a  caged  animal,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do ;  I'll 
write  her,  and  throw  my  heart  at  her  feet.  Of  course  she 
won't  care.  It's  just  as  you  say.  Why  should  she  ?  But 
I'll  do  it,  and  then  I'll  go  back  to  the  regiment.  I  hate  to 
spoil  your  fun,  major,  if  it's  any  fun  to  you  to  have  such  a 
fool  in  your  quarters  ;  but  the  fact  is,  the  enemy's  too  much 
for  me.  I  wouldn't  feel  worse  if  I  was  facing  a  division.  I'll 
write  her  to  morrow.  I'd  rather  be  refused  by  her  than 
loved  by  any  other  woman." 

"  Put  it  off  a  fortnight,  Fred,"  suggested  the  major  ;  "  it's 
the  polite  thing  to  call  within  a  week  after  this  party  ;  you'll 
have  a  chance  then  to  become  better  acquainted  with  her. 
She's  delightful  company,  I'm  told.  Perhaps  you'll  make  up 
your  mind  it's  better  to  enjoy  her  society,  during  our  leave, 
than  to  throw  away  everything  in  a  forlorn  hope.  Wait  a 
fortnight,  that's  a  sensible  youth." 

"I  can't,  major!"  cried  the  excited  boy.  "Hang  it! 
you're  an  old  soldier — don't  you  know  how  infernally  un- 
comfortable it  is  to  stand  still  and  be  shot  at  ?  " 

"I  do,  my  boy,"  said  the  major,  with  considerable 
emphasis,  and  a  far-away  look  at  nothing  in  particular. 

"  Well,  that'll  be  my  fix  as  long  as  I  stay  here  and  keep 
quiet,"  replied  the  lieutenant. 

"  Wait  a  week,  then,"  persisted  the  major.     "  You  don't 


102  THE  MAJOR'S  COWARDICE. 

want  to  be  '  guilty  of  conduct  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman,'  eh  ?  Don't  spoil  her  first  remembrances  of  the 
first  freedom  she's  known  for  a  couple  of  years." 

•  "  Well,  call  it  a  week,  then,"  moodily  replied  the  lo.ve-sick 
brave,  lighting  a  candle,  and  moving  toward  his  room.  "  I 
suppose  it  will  take  me  a  week,  anyway,  to  make  up  a  letter 
fit  to  send  to  such  an  angel." 

The  major  sighed,  put  on  an  easy  coat  and  slippers,  and 
stepped  into  his  garden. 

"  Poor  Fred !  "  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  he  paced  the 
walk  in  front  of  the  piazza;  "can't  wait  a  fortnight,  eh? 
Wonder  what  he  would  say  if  he  knew  I'd  been  waiting  for 
seven  or  eight  years — if  he  knew  I  fell  in  love  with  her  as 
easily  as  he  did,  and  that  I've  never  recovered  myself? 
Wonder  what  he'd  do  if  some  one  were  to  marry  her  almost 
before  his  very  eyes,  as  poor  Wittleday  did  while  I  was 
longing  for  her  acquaintance?  Wonder  what  sort  of  fool 
he'd  call  me  if  he  knew  that  I  came  to  East  Patten,  time 
after  time,  just  for  a  chance  of  looking  at  her — that  I  bought 
Rose  Cottage  merely  to  be  near  her — that  I'd  kept  it  all  to 
myself,  and  for  a  couple  of  years  had  felt  younger  at  the 
thought  that  I  might,  perchance,  win  her  after  all  ?  Poor 
Fred!  And  yet,  why  shouldn't  she  marry  him? — women 
have  done  stranger  things ;  and  he's  a  great  deal  more 
attractive-looking  than  an  old  campaigner  like  myself.  Well, 
God  bless  'em  both,  and  have  mercy  on  an  old  coward ! " 

The  major  looked  toward  the  Wittleday  mansion.  The 
door  was  open ;  the  last  guests  were  evidently  departing, 
and  their  beautiful  entertainer  was  standing  in  the  doorway, 
a,  flood  of  light  throwing  into  perfect  relief  her  graceful  and 
tastefully  dressed  figure.  She  said  something  laughingly  to 
the  departing  guests  ;  it  seemed  exquisite  music  to  the 
major.  Then  the  door  closed,  and  the  major,  with  a  groan, 
retired  within  his  own  door,  and  sorrowfully  consumed  many 
cigars. 

The  week  that  followed  was  a  very  dismal  one  to  the 
major.  He  petied  his  garden  as  usual,  and  whistled  softly 


"A   FELLOW   FEELING   MAKES   US  WONDEROUS   KIND."       103 

to  himself,  as  was  his  constant  habit,  but  he  insanely 
pinched  the  buds  off  the  flowering  plants,  and  his  whistling 
— sometimes  plaintive,  sometimes  hopeless,  sometimes 
wrathful,  sometimes  vindictive  in  expression — was  restricted 
to  the  execution  of  dead-marches  alone.  He  jeopardized 
his  queen  so  often  at  chess  that  Parson  Fisher  deemed  it 
only  honorable  to  call  the  major's  attention  to  his  misplays, 
and  to  allow  him  to  correct  them. 

The  saddler  post-master  noticed  that  the  major — usually 
a  most  accomplished  smoker — now  consumed  a  great  many 
matches  in  relighting  each  pipe  that  he  filled.  Only  once 
during  the  week  did  he  chance  to  meet  Mrs.  Wittleday,  and 
then  the  look  which  accompanied  his  bow  and  raised  hat 
was  so  solemn,  that  his  fair  neighbor  was  unusually  sober 
herself  for  a  few  moments,  while  she  wondered  whether  she 
could  in  any  way  have  given  the  major  offense. 

As  for  the  lieutenant,  he  sat  at  the  major's  desk  for 
many  sorrowful  hours  each  day,  the  general  result  being  a 
large  number  of  closely  written  and  finely  torn  scraps  in  the 
waste-basket.  Then  coatless,  collarless,  with  open  vest  and 
hair  disarranged  in  the  manner  traditional  among  love-sick 
youths,  he  would  pour  mournful  airs  from  a  flute. 

The  major  complained — rather  frequently  for  a  man  who 
had  spent  years  on  the  Plains — of  drafts  from  the  front 
windows,  which  windows  he  finally  kept  closed  most  of  the 
time,  thus  saving  Mrs.  Wittleday  the  annoyance  which  would 
certainly  have  resulted  from  the  noise  made  by  the  earnest 
but  unskilled  amateur. 

For  the  major  himself,  however,  neither  windows  nor 
doors  could  afford  relief;  and  when,  one  day,  the  sergeant 
accidentally  overturned  a  heavy  table,  which  fell  upon  the 
flute  and  crushed  it,  the  major  enjoyed  the  only  happy  mo- 
ments that  were  his  during  the  week. 

The  week  drew  very  near  its  close.  The  major  had,  with 
a  heavy  but  desperate  heart,  told  stories,  sung  songs,  brought 
up  tactical  points  for  discussion — he  even  waxed  enthusias- 
tic in  favor  of  a  run  through  Europe,  he,  of  course,  to  bear 


104  FRED  ASKS  A  FAVOR. 

all  the  expenses;  but  the  subaltern  remained  faithful  and 
obdurate. 

Finally,  the  morning  of  the  last  day  arrived,  and  the 
lieutenant,  to  the  major's  surprise  and  delight,  appeared  at 
the  table  with  a  very  resigned  air. 

"  Major,"  said  he,  "  I  wouldn't  mention  it  under  any 
other  circumstances,  but — I  saved  your  life  once  ?  " 

•''You  did,  my  boy.  God  bless  you!"  responded  the 
major,  promptly. 

"  "Well,  now  I  want  to  ask  a  favor  on  the  strength  of  that 
act.  I'll  never  ask  another.  It's  no  use  for  me  to  try  to 
write  to  her — the  harder  I  try  the  more  contemptible  my 
words  appear.  Now,  what  I  ask,  is  this  :  you  write  me  a 
rough  draft  of  what's  fit  to  send  to  such  an  incomparable 
being,  and  I'll  copy  it  and  send  it  over.  I  don't  expect  any 
answer — all  I  want  to  do  is  to  throw  myself  away  on  hery 
but  I  want  to  do  it  handsomely,  and — hang  it,  I  don't  know 
how.  Write  just  as  if  you  were  doing  it  for  yourself.  Will 
you  do  it?" 

The  major  tried  to  wash  his  heart  out  of  his  throat  with 
a  sip  of  coffee,  and  succeeded  but  partially  ;  yet  the  appeal- 
ing look  of  his  favorite,  added  to  the  unconscious  pathos  of 
his  tone,  restored  to  him  his  self-command,  and  he  replied : 

"  I'll  do  it,  Fred,  right  away." 

"  Don't  spoil  your  breakfast  for  it ;  any  time  this  morning 
will  do,"  said  the  lieutenant,  as  the  major  arose  from  the 
table.  But  the  veteran  needed  an  excuse  for  leaving  his- 
breakfast  untouched,  and  he  rather  abruptly  stepped  upon 
the  piazza  and  indulged  in  a  thoughtful  promenade. 

"  Write  just  as  if  you  were  doing  it  for  yourself." 

The  young  man's  words  rang  constantly  in  his  ears,  and 
before  the  major  had  thought  many  moments,  he  determined 
to  do  exactly  what  he  was  asked  to  do. 

This  silly  performance  of  the  lieutenant's  would,  of 
course,  put  an  end  to  the  acquaintanceship  of  the  major  and 
Mrs.  Wittleday,  unless  that  lady  were  most  unusually 
gracious.  Why  should  he  not  say  to  her,  over  the  subal- 


THE   MAJOR  WRITES   A  LOVE   LETTER.  105 

tern's  name,  all  that  he  had  for  years  been  hoping  for  an 
opportunity  to  say  ?  No  matter  that  she  would  not  imagine 
who  was  the  real  author  of  the  letter — it  would  still  be  an 
unspeakable  comfort  to  write  the  words  and  know  that  her 
eyes  would  read  them — that  her  heart  would  perhaps — 
probably,  in  fact — pity  the  writer. 

The  major  seated  himself,  wrote,  erased,  interlined,  re- 
wrote, and  finally  handed  to  the  lieutenant  a  sheet  of  letter- 
paper,  of  which  nearly  a  page  was  covered  with  the  major's 
very  characteristic  chirography. 

"  By  gracious,  major ! "  exclaimed  the  lieutenant,  his  face 
having  lightened  perceptibly  during  the  perusal  of  the 
letter,  "  that's  magnificent !  I  declare,  it  puts  hope  into  me ; 
and  yet,  confound  it,  it's  plaguy  like  marching  under  some 
one  else's  colors." 

"  Never  mind,  my  boy,  copy  it,  sign  it,  and  send  it  over, 
and  don't  hope-  too  much." 

The  romantic  young  brave  copied  the  letter  carefully, 
line  for  line  ;  he  spoilt  several  envelopes  in  addressing  one  to 
suit  him,  and  then  dispatched  the  missive  by  the  major's 
servant,  laying  the  rough  draft  away  for  future  (and  proba- 
bly sorrowful)  perusal. 

The  morning  hours  lagged  dreadfully.  Both  warriors 
smoked  innumerable  cigars,  but  only  to  find  fault  with  the 
flavor  thereof. 

The  lieutenant  tried  to  keep  his  heart  up  by  relating  two 
or  three  stories,  at  the  points  of  each  of  which  the  major 
forced  a  boisterous  laugh,  but  the  mirth  upon  both  sides  was 
visibly  hollow.  Dinner  was  set  at  noon,  the  usual  military 
dinner-hour,  but  little  was  consumed,  except  a  bottle  of 
claret,  which  the  major,  who  seldom  drank,  seemed  to  con- 
sider it  advisable  to  produce. 

The  after-dinner  cigar  lasted  only  until  one  o'clock ; 
newspapers  by  the  noon-day  mail  occupied  their  time  for 
but  a  scant  hour  more,  and  an  attempted  game  of  cribbage 
was  speedily  dropped  by  unspoken  but  mutual  consent. 

Suddenly    the   garden    gate   creaked.      The   lieutenant 


106  "  IT'S  FOB  THE  MAJOE,  SAR." 

sprang  to  Ms  feet,  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"  It's  her  darkey — he's  got  an  answer — oh,  major ! " 

"Steady,  boy,  steady!"  said  the  major,  arising  hastily 
and  laying  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  as  that 
excited  person  was  hastening  to  the  door.  "  '  Officer  and 
gentleman,'  you  know.  Let  Sam  open  the  door." 

The  bell  rang,  the  door  was  opened,  a  word  or  two 
passed  between  the  two  servants,  and  Mrs.  Wittleday's 
coachman  appeared  in  the  dining-room,  holding  the  letter. 
The  lieutenant  eagerly  reached  for  it,  but  the  sable  carrier 
grinned  politely,  said : 

"  It's  for  de  major,  sar — wuz  told  to  give  it  right  into  his 
han's,  and  nobody  else,"  fulfilled  his  instructions,  and  de- 
parted with  many  bows  and  smiles,  while  the  two  soldiers 
dropped  into  their  respective  chairs. 

"  Hurry  up,  major — do,  please,"  whispered  the  lieutenant. 
But  the  veteran  seemed  an  interminably  long  time  in  opening 
the  dainty  envelope  in  his  hand.  Official  communications  he 
opened  with  a  dexterity  suggesting  sleight-of-hand,  but  now 
he  took  a  penknife  from  his  pocket,  opened  its  smallest, 
brightest  blade,  and  carefully  cut  Mrs.  Wittleday's  envelope. 
As  he  opened  the  letter  his  lower  jaw  fell,  and  his  eyes 
opened  wide.  He  read  the  letter  through,  and  re-read  it, 
his  countenance  indicating  considerable  satisfaction,  which 
presently  was  lost  in  an  expression  of  puzzled  wonder. 

"  Fred,"  said  he  to  the  miserable  lieutenant,  who  started 
to  his  feet  as  a  prisoner  expecting  a  severe  sentence  might 
do,  "  what  in  creation  did  you  write  Mrs.  "Wittleday  ?" 

"  Just  what  you  gave  me  to  write,"  replied  the  young 
man,  evidently  astonished. 

"  Lst  me  see  my  draft  of  it,"  said  the  major. 

The  lieutenant  opened  a  drawer  in  the  major's  desk,  took 
out  a  sheet  of  paper,  looked  at  it,  and  cried  : 

"  I  sent  her  your  draft !     This  is  my  letter  ! " 

"  And  she  imagined  I  wrote  it,  and  has  accepted  me  I n 
gasped  the  major. 


"YOU'LL  HAVE  TO  MARRY  HER."  107 

The  wretched  Frederick  turned  pale,  and  tottered  toward 
&  chair.  The  major  went  over  to  him  and  spoke  to  him 
sympathizingly,  but  despite  his  genial  sorrow  for  the  poor 
boy,  the  major's  heart  was  so  full  that  he  did  not  dare  to 
•show  his  face  for  a  moment ;  so  he  stood  behind  the  lieu- 
tenant, and  looked  across  his  own  shoulder  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

"Oh,  major,"  exclaimed  Fred,  "isn't  it  possible  that 
you're  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Here's  her  letter,  my  boy,"  said  the  major  ;  "  judge  for 
yourself." 

The  young  man  took  the  letter  in  a  mechanical  sort  of 
way,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  July  23d,  185—. 

"  DEAR  MAJOR— I  duly  received  your  note  of  this  morn- 
ing, and  you  may  thank  womanly  curiosity  for  my  knowing 
from  whom  the  missive  (which  you  omitted  to  sign)  came. 
I  was  accidentally  looking  out  of  my  window,  and  recog- 
nized the  messenger. 

"  I  have  made  it  an  inflexible  rule  to  laugh  at  declarations 
of '  love  at  first  sight,'  but  when  I  remembered  how  long  ago 
it  was  when  first  we  met,  the  steadfastness  of  your  regard, 
proved  to  me  by  a  new  fancy  (which  I  pray  you  not  to 
crush)  that  your  astonishing  fondness  for  East  Patten  was 
partly  on  my  account,  forbade  my  indulging  in  any  lighter 
sentiment  than  that  of  honest  gratitude. 

"You  may  call  this  evening  for  your  answer,  which  I 
suppose  you,  with  the  ready  conceit  of  your  sex  and  pro- 
fession, will  have  already  anticipated. 

•'  Yours,  very  truly,  HELEN  WITTLEDAY." 

The  lieutenant  groaned. 

"It's  all  up,  major!  you'll  Jiave  to  marry  her.  'Twould 
be  awfully  ungentlemanly  to  let  her  know  there  was  any 
mistake." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Fred?"  asked  the  major,  with  a  per- 
ceptible twitch  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 


108  TUT  OUT  OF  MISERY. 

"  Certainly,  I  do,"  replied  the  sorrowful  lover;  "  and  I'm 
sure  you  can  learn  to  love  her;  she  is  simply  an  angel — a, 
goddess.  Confound  it !  you  can't  help  loving  her." 

"You  really  believe  so,  do  you,  my  boy?"  asked  the 
major,  with  fatherly  gravity.  "But  how  would  you  feel 
about  it  ?  " 

"  As  if  no  one  else  on  earth  was  good  enough  for  her — 
as  if  she  was  the  luckiest  woman  alive,"  quickly  answered 
the  young  man,  with  a  great  deal  of  his  natural  spirit. 
"  'Twould  heal  my  wound  entirely." 

"  Yery  well,  my  boy,"  said  the  major ;  "  I'll  put  you  out 
of  your  misery  as  soon  as  possible." 


Never  had  the  major  known  an  evening  whose  twilight, 
was  of  such  interminable  duration.  "When,  however,  the 
darkness  was  sufficient  to  conceal  his  face,  he  walked 
quickly  across  the  street,  and  to  the  door  of  the  Wittleday 
mansion. 

That  his  answer  was  what  he  supposed  it  would  be  is- 
evinced  by  the  fact  that,  a  few  months  later,  his  resignation 
was  accepted  by  the  Department,  and  Mrs.  Wittleday  became 
Mrs.  Martt. 

In  so  strategic  a  manner  that  she  never  suspected  the 
truth,  the  major  told  his  fiancee  the  story  of  the  lieutenant's 
unfortunate  love,  and  so  great  was  the  fair  widow's  sympathy, 
that  she  set  herself  the  task  of  seeing  the  young  man 
happily  engaged.  This  done,  she  offered  him  the  position 
of  engineer  of  some  mining  work  on  her  husband's  estate, 
and  the  major  promised  him  Eose  Cottage  for  a  permanent 
residence  as  soon  as  he  would  find  a  mistress  for  it. 

Naturally,  the  young  man  succombed  to  the  influences 
exerted  against  him,  and,  after  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Doyson  were 
fairly  settled,  the  major  told  his  own  wife,  to  her  intense 
amusement,  the  history  of  the  letter  which  induced  her  to 
change  her  name. 


BUFELE. 

HOW  lie  came  by  his  name,  no  one  could  tell.  In  the 
early  days  of  the  gold  fever  there  came  to  California  a 
great  many  men  who  did  not  volunteer  their  names,  and  as 
those  about  them  had  been  equally  reticent  on  their  own 
advent,  they  asked  few  questions  of  newcomers. 

The  hotels  of  the  mining  regions  never  kept  registers 
for  the  accommodation  of  guests — they  were  considered 
well-appointed  hotels  if  they  kept  water-tight  roofs  and 
well-stocked  bars. 

Newcomers  were  usually  designated  at  first  by  some 
peculiarity  of  physiognomy  or  dress,  and  were  known  by 
such  names  as  "Broken  Nose,"  "Pink  Shirt,"  "Cross 
Bars,"  "  Gone  Ears,"  etc. ;  if,  afterward,  any  man  developed 
some  peculiarity  of  character,  an  observing  and  original 
miner  would  coin  and  apply  a  new  name,  which  would  after- 
ward be  accepted  as  irrevocably  as  a  name  conferred  by  the 
holy  rite  of  baptism. 

No  one  wondered  that  Buffle  never  divulged  his  real 
name,  or  talked  of  his  past  life ;  for  in  the  mines  he  had 
such  an  unhappy  faculty  of  winning  at  cards,  getting  new 
horses  without  visible  bills  of  sale,  taking  drinks  beyond 
ordinary  power  of  computation,  stabbing  and  shooting,  that 
it  was  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  had  acquired 
these  abilities  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  peace  of  some  other 
community. 

He  was  not  vicious — even  a  strict  theologian  could  hardly 
have  accused  him  of  malice  ;  yet,  wherever  he  went,  he  was 

109 


110  A  GAME   UP  AT  BUFFLE'S. 

promptly  acknowledged  chief  of  that  peculiar  class  which 
renders  law  and  sheriffs  necessary  evils. 

He  was  not  exactly  a  beauty — miners  seldom  were — yet  a 
connoisseur  in  manliness  could  have  justly  wished  there 
were  a  dash  of  the  Buffle  blood  in  the  well-regulated  veins- 
of  many  irreproachable  characters  in  quieter  neighborhoods- 
than  Fat  Pocket  Gulch,  where  the  scene  of  this  story  was- 
located. 

He  was  tall,  active,  prompt  and  generous,  and  only  those 
who  have  these  qualities  superadded  to  their  own  virtues 
are  worthy  to  throw  stones  at  his  memory. 

He  was  brave,  too.  His  bravery  had  been  frequently 
recorded  in  lead  in  the  mining  regions,  and  such  records- 
were  transmitted  from  place  to  place  with  an  alacrity  which 
put  official  zeal  to  the  deepest  blush. 

At  the  fashionable  hour  of  two  o'clock  at  night,  Mr.  Buffle 
was  entertaining  some  friends  at  his  residence  ;  or,  to  use- 
the  language  of  the  mines,  "there  was  a  game  up  to- 
Buffle's."  In  a  shanty  of  the  composite  order  of  architec- 
ture— it  having  a  foundation  of  stone,  succeeded  by  logs, 
a  gable  of  coffin  misfits  and  cracker-boxes,  and  a  roof  of 
bark  and  canvas — Buffle  and  three  other  miners  were  play- 
ing "  old  sledge." 

The  table  was  an  empty  pork-barrel;  the  seats  were 
respectively,  a  block  of  wood,  a  stone,  and  a  raisin-box,  with 
a  well-stuffed  knapsack  for  the  tallest  man. 

On  one  side  of  the  shanty  was  a  low  platform  of  hewn 
logs,  which  constituted  the  proprietor's  couch  when  he 
slept ;  on  another  was  the  door,  on  the  third  were  confusedly 
piled  Buffle's  culinary  utensils,  and  on  the  fourth  was'a  fire- 
place, whose  defective  draft  had  been  the  agent  of  the  fine 
frescoing  of  soot  perceptible  on  the  ceiling.  A  single  candle 
hung  on  a  wire  over  the  barrel,  and  afforded  light  auxiliary 
to  that  thrown  out  by  the  fireplace. 

The  game  had  been  going  largely  in  Buffle's  favor,  as  was 
usually  the  case,  when  one  of  the  opposition  injudiciously 
played  an  ace  which  was  clearly  from  another  pack  of  cards. 


COME  IN,"  ROARED  BUFFLE'S   PARTNER.      "  COME    IN,  HANG  YKR,  IF    YER     LIFE'S 
INSURED  !  '     THE  DOOB  OPENED  SLOWLY,  AND  A  WOMAN  ENTERED. 

112 


WHY  BUFFLE  DROPPED   HIS   PISTOL.  113 

inasmuch  as  Buffle,  who  had  dealt,  had  the  rightful  ace  in 
his  own  hand.  As  it  was  the  ace  of  trumps,  Buffle' s  indig- 
nation arose,  and  so  did  his  person  and  pistol. 

"Hang  yer,"  said  he,  savagely;  "yer  don't  come  that 
game  on  me.  I've  got  that  ace  myself." 

An  ordinary  man  would  have  drawn  pistol  also,  but 
Buffle' s  antagonist  knew  his  only  safety  lay  in  keeping  quiet, 
so  he  only  stared  vacantly  at  the  muzzle  of  the  revolver, 
that  was  so  precisely  aimed  at  his  own  head. 

The  two  other  players  had  risen  to  their  feet,  and  were- 
mentally  composing  epitaphs  for  the  victim,  when  there  was 
heard  a  decided  knock  on  the  door. 

"  Come  in !"  roared  Buffle's  partner,  who  was  naturally 
the  least  excited  of  the  four.  "  Come  in,  hang  yer,  if  yer 
life's  insured." 

The  door  opened  slowly,  and  a  woman  entered. 

Now,  while  there  were  but  few  women  in  the  camp,  the 
sight  of  a  single  woman  was  not  at  all  unusual.  Yet,  as  she 
raised  her  vail,  Buffle's  revolver  fell  from  his  hands,  and 
the  other  players  laid  down  their  cards ;  the  partner  of  the 
guilty  man  being  so  overcome  as  to  lay  down  his  hand  face 
upward. 

Then  they  all  stared,  but  not  one  of  them  spoke ;  they 
wanted  to,  but  none  knew  how  to  do  it.  It  was  not  usually 
difficult  for  any  of  them  to  address  such  specimens  of  the 
gentler  sex  as  found  their  way  to  Fat  Pocket  Gulch,  but 
they  all  understood  at  once  that  this  was  a  different  •  sort  of 
woman.  They  looked  reprovingly  and  beseechingly  at  each 
other,  but  the  woman,  at  last,  broke  the  silence  by  saying : 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  gentlemen,  but  I  was  told  I 
could  probably  find  Mr.  Buffle  here." 

"  Here  he  is,  ma'am,  and  yours  truly,"  said  Buffle,  remov- 
ing his  hat. 

He  could  afford  to.  She  was  not  beautiful,  but  she 
seemed  to  be  in  trouble,  and  a  troubled  woman  can  com- 
mand, to  the  death,  even  worse  men  than  free-and-easy 
miners.  She  had  a  refined,  pure  face,  out  of  which  two 


114  "NO  MAN  KEBKIES  VISITIN'- CARDS." 

great  brown  eyes  looked  so  tenderly  and  anxiously,  thai} 
these  men  forgot  themselves  at  once.  She  seemed  young,, 
not  more  than  twenty-three  or  four ;  she  was  slightly  built, 
and  dressed  in  a  suit  of  plain  black. 

"  Mr.  Buffle/'  said  she,  "  I  was  going  through  by  stage  to- 
San  Francisco,  when  I  overheard  the  driver  say  to  a  man 
seated  by  him  that  you  knew  more  miners  than  any  man  in 
California — that  you  had  been  through  the  whole  mining 
country." 

"Well,  mum,"  said  Buffle,  with  a  delighted  but  sheepish 
look,  which  would  have  become  a  missionary  complimented 
on  the  number  of  converts  he  had  made,  "  I  Tiev  been  around 
a  good  deal,  that's  a  fact.  I  reckon  I've  staked  a  claim 
purty  much  ev'rywhar  in  the  diggins." 

"So  I  inferred  from  what  the  driver  said,"  she  replied, 
"and  I  came  down  here  to  ask  you  a  question." 

Here  she  looked  uneasily  at  the  other  players.  The  man 
who  stole  the  ace  translated  it  at  once,  and  said : 

"We'll  git  out  ef  yer  say  so,  mum ;  but  yer  needn't  be 
afraid  to  say  ennything  before  us.  We  know  a  lady  when 
we  see  her,  an'  mebbe  some  on  us  ken  give  yer  a  lift ;  if  we 
can't,  I've  only  got  to  say  thet  ef  yer  let  out  enny  secrets, 
grizzlies  couldn't  tear  'em  out  uv  enny  man  in  this  crowd. 
Hey,  fellers?" 

"  You  bet,"  was  the  firm  response  of  the  remaining  two, 
and  Buffle  quickly  passed  a  demijohn  to  the  ace-thief,  as  a 
sign  of  forgiveness  and  approbation. 

"  Thank  you,  gentlemen — God  bless  you,"  said  the  woman, 
earnestly,  jf  "  My  story  is  soon  told.  I  am  looking  for  my 
husband,  and  I  must  find  him.  His  name  is  Allan  Berryn." 

Buffle  gazed  thoughtfully  in  the  fire,  and  remarked : 

"  Names  ain't  much  good  in  this  country,  mum — no  man 
kerries  visitin'-cards,  an'  mighty  few  gits  letters.  Besides, 
lots  comes  here  'cos  they're  wanted  elsewhere,  an'  they  take 
names  that  ain't  much  like  what  their  mothers  giv  'em. 
Mebbe  you  could  tell  us  somethin'  else  to  put  us  on  the 
trail  of  him  ?" 


"HE  ALWAYS   WORE  IT  OYER  HIS  HEART. 

"  Hez  he  got  both  of  his  eyes  an'  ears,  mum?"  inquired  one- 
of  the  men. 

"  Uv  course  he  hez,  you  fool !"  replied  Buffle,  savagely. 
"The  lady's  husband's  a  gentleman,  an'  'tain't  likely  he's- 
been  chawed  or  gouged." 

"  I  ax  parding,  mum,"  said  the  offender,  in  the  most  abject 
manner. 

"  He  is  of  medium  height,  slightly  built,  has  brown  hair 
and  eyes,  and  wears  a  plain  gold  ring  on  the  third  finger  of 
his  left  hand,"  continued  Mrs.  Berryn. 

"  Got  all  his  front  teeth,  mum  ?"  asked  the  man  Buffle 
had  rebuked;  then  he  turned  quickly  to  Buffle,  who  was 
frowning  suspiciously,  and  said,  appeasingly,  "Yer  know,. 
Buffle,  that  bein'  a  gentleman  don't  keep  a  feller  from  losin' 
his  teeth  in  the  nateral  course  of  things." 

"  He  had  all  his  front  teeth  a  few  months  ago,"  replied 
Mrs.  Berryn.  "  I  do  not  know  how  to  describe  him  further 
— he  had  no  scars,  moles,  or  other  peculiarities  which  might 
identify  him,  except,"  she  continued,  with  a  faint  blush — a 
wife's  blush,  which  strongly  tempted  Buffle  to  kneel  and 
kiss  the  ground  she  stood  on — "  except  a  locket  I  once  gave 
him,  with  my  portrait,  and  which  he  always  wore  over  his 
heart.  I  can't  believe  he  would  take  it  off,"  said  she,  with 
a  sob  that  was  followed  by  a  flood  of  tears. 

The  men  twisted  on  their  seats,  and  showed  every  sign  of 
uneasiness  ;  one  stepped  outside  to  cough,  another  suddenly 
attacked  the  fire  and  poked  it  savagely,  Buffle  impolitely 
turned  his  back  to  the  company,  while  the  fourth  man  lost- 
himself  in  the  contemplation  of  the  king  of  spades,  which- 
card  ever  afterward  showed  in  its  centre  a  blotch  which 
seemed  the  result  of  a  drop  of  water.  Finally  Buffle  broke 
the  silence  by  saying : 

"  I'd  give  my  last  ounce,  and  my  shootin'-iron  besides, 
mum,  ef  I  could  put  yer  on  his  trail ;  but  I  can't  remember 
no  such  man  ;  ken  you,  fellers  ?" 

Three  melancholy  nods  replied  in  the  negative. 

:i  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs* 


116  A  DASH   OF  CAMP   GALLANTRY. 

Berryn.  "  I  will  go  back  to  the  crossing  and  take  the  next 
stage.  Perhaps,  Mr.  Buffle,  if  I  send  you  my  address  when 
I  reach  San  Francisco,  you  will  let  me  know  if  you  ever  find 
any  traces  of  him  ?" 

"  Depend  upon  all  of  us  for  that,  mum,"  replied  Buffle. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  she,  and  departed  as  suddenly  as  she 
had  entered,  leaving  the  men  staring  stupidly  at  each  other. 

"  Wonder  how  she  got  here  from  the  crossin' ?"  finally 
remarked  one. 

"  Ef  she  came  alone,  she's  got  a  black  ride  back,"  said 
another.  "It's  nigh  onto  fourteen  miles  to  that  crossin'." 

"An'  she  orten't  to  be  travelin'  at  all,"  said  little  Muggy, 
the  smallest  man  of  the  party.  "I'm  a  family  man — or  I 
wuz  once — an'  I  tell  yer  she  ort  to  be  where  she  ken  keep 
quiet,  an'  wait  for  what's  comin'  soon." 

The  men  glanced  at  each  other  significantly,  but  without 
any  of  the  levity  which  usually  follows  such  an  announce- 
ment in  more  cultured  circles. 

"This  game's  up,  boys,"  said  Buffle,  rising  suddenly. 
"  The  stage  don't  reach  the  crossin'  till  noon,  an'  she  is  goin' 
to  hev  this  shanty  to  stay  in  till  daylight,  anyhow.  You 
fellers  had  better  git,  right  away." 

Saying  which,  Buffle  hurried  out  to  look  for  Mrs.  Berryn. 
He  soon  overtook  her,  and  awkwardly  said  : 

"Mum!" 

She  stopped. 

"  Yer  don't  need  to  start  till  after  daylight  to  reach  that 
stage,  mum,  an'  you'd  better  come  back  and  rest  yerself  in 
my  shanty  till  mornin'." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged,  sir,"  she  replied,  "  but " 

"  Don't  be  afeard,  mum,"  said  Buffl@,  hastily.  "  We're 
rough,  but  a  lady's  as  safe  here  as  she'd  be  among  her 
family.  Ye'll  have  the  cabin  all  to  yerself,  an'  I'll  leave  a 
revolver  with  yer  to  make  yer  feel  better." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,  but — it  will  take  me  some  time 
to  get  back." 

"Horse  lame,  p'r'aps?" 


"  CLEAR   GOLD   ALL  THE   WAY  DOWN  TO   BED-ROCK."       117 

"No,  sir;  the  truth  is,  I  walked." 

"  Good  God !"  ejaculated  Buffle ;  "  I'll  kill  any  scoundrel 
of  a  station-agent  that'll  let  a  woman  take  such  a  walk  as- 
this.  I'll  take  you  back  on  a  good  horse  before  noon 
to-morrow,  and  I'll  put  a  hole  through  that  rascal  right 
before  your  eyes,  mum." 

Mrs.  Berryn  shuddered,  at  sight  of  which  Buffle  mentally 
consigned  his  eyes  to  a  locality  boasting  a  superheated 
atmosphere,  for  talking  so  roughly  to  a  lady. 

"Don't  harm  him,  Mr.  Buffle,"  said  she.  "He  knew 
nothing  about  it.  I  asked  him  the  road  to  Fat  Pocket 
Gulch,  and  he  pointed  it  out.  He  did  not  know  but  what  I 
had  a  horse  or  a  carriage.  Unfortunately,  the  stage  was- 
robbed  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  all  my  money  was 
taken,  or  I  should  not  have  walked  here,  I  assure  you.  My 
passage  is  paid  to  San  Francisco,  and  the  driver  told  me 
that  if  I  wished  to  come  down  here,  the  next  stage  would 
take  me  through  to  San  Francisco.  When  I  get  there,  I  can 
soon  obtain  money  from  the  East." 

"  Madame,"  said  Buffle,  unconsciously  taking  off  his  hat, 
"  any  lady  that'll  make  that  walk  by  dark  is  clear  gold  all 
the  way  down  to  bed-rock.  Ef  yer  husband's  in  California, 
I'll  find  him  fur  yer,  in  spite  of  man  or  devil — /will,  an'  I'll 
be  on  the  trail  in  half  an  hour.  An'  you'd  better  stay  here 
till  I  come  back,  or  send  yer  word.  I  don't  want  to  brag, 
but  thar  ain't  a  man  in  the  Gulch  that'll  dare  molest  any- 
thin'  aroun'  my  shanty,  an'  as  thar's  plenty  of  pervisions 
thar — plain,  but  good — yer  can't  suffer.  The  spring  is  close 
by,  an'  you/11  allers  find  firewood  by  the  door.  An'  ef  yer 
want  help  about  anythin',  ask  the  fust  man  yer  see,  and  say 
I  told  yer  to." 

Mrs.  Berryn  looked  earnestly  into  his  face  for  a  moment, 
and  then  trusted  him. 

"  Mr.  Buffle,"  she  said,  "  he  is  the  best  man  that  ever 
lived.  But  we  were  both  proud,  and  we  quarrelled,  and  he 
left  me  in  anger.  I  accidentally  heard  he  was  in  California, 
through  an  acquaintance  who  saw  him  leave  New  York  on 


118  A  LOOKING-GLASS  AND  "WOETEK," 

•fche  California  steamer.  If  you  see  him,  tell  him  I  was 
•wrong,  and  that  I  will  die  if  he  does  not  come  back.  Tell 
Mm — tell  him — that." 

"Never  mind,  mum,"  said  Buffle,  leading  her  hastily 
toward  the  shanty,  and  talking  with  unusual  rapidity.  "  I'll 
bring  him  back  all  right  ef  I  find  him  ;  an'  find  him  I  will, 
*ef  he's  on  top  of  the  ground." 

They  entered  the  cabin,  and  Buffle  was  rather  astonished 
at  the  appearance  of  his  own  home.  The  men  were  gone, 
but  on  the  bare  logs,  where  Buffle  usually  reposed,  they  had 
spread  their  coats  neatly,  and  covered  them  with  a  blanket 
which  little  Muggy  usually  wore. 

The  cards  had  disappeared,  and  in  their  place  lay  a  very 
.small  fragment  of  looking-glass ;  the  demijohn  stood  in  its 
accustomed  place,  but  against  it  leaned  a  large  chip,  on 
which  was  scrawled,  in  charcoal,  the  word  Worter. 

"  Good,"  said  Buffle,  approvingly.  "  Now,  mum,  keep  up 
yer  heart.  I  tell  yer  I'll  fetch  him,  an'  any  man  at  the 
Gulch  ken  tell  yer  thet  lyin'  ain't  my  gait." 

Buffle  slammed  the  door,  called  at  two  or  three  other 
shanties,  and  gave  orders  in  a  style  befitting  a  feudal  lord, 
and  in  ten  minutes  was  on  horseback,  galloping  furiously 
out  on  the  trail  to  Green  Flat. 

The  Green  Flatites  wondered  at  finding  the  great  man 
-among  them,  and  treated  him  with  the  most  painful  civility. 
As  he  neither  hung  about  the  saloon,  "got  up"  a  game, 
nor  provoked  a  horse-trade,  it  was  immediately  surmised 
that  he  was  looking  for  some  one,  and  each  man  searchingly 
questioned  his  trembling  memory  whether  he  had  ever  done 
Buffle  an  injury. 

All  preserved  a  respectful  silence  as  Buffle  walked  from 
-claim  to  claim,  carefully  scrutinizing  many,  and  all  breathed 
freer  as  they  saw  him  and  his  horse  disappear  over  the  hill 
on  the  Sonora  trail. 

At  Sonora  he  considered  it  wise  to  stay  over  Sunday — not 
to  enjoy  religious  privileges,  but  because  on  Sunday  sinners 
from  all  parts  of  the  country  round  flocked  into  Sonora,  to 


THE  MINERS'  OFFERINGS.  119 

commune  with  the  spirits,  infernal  rather  than  celestial, 
gathered  there. 

He  made  the  tour  of  all  the  saloons,  dashed  eagerly  at 
two  or  three  men,  with  plain  gold  rings  on  left  fore-fingers, 
•disgustedly  found  them  the  wrong  men  beyond  doubt, 
cursed  them,  and  invited  them  to  drink.  Then  he  closely 
-catechised  all  the  barkeepers,  who  were  the  only  reliable 
directories  in  that  country;  they  were  anxious  to  oblige 
him,  but  none  could  remember  such  a  man.  So  Buffle  took 
.his  horse,  and  sought  his  man  elsewhere. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Berryn  remained  in  camp,  where  she 
was  cared  for  in  a  manner  which  called  out  her  astonish- 
.ment  equally  with  her  gratitude.  Buffle  was  hardly  well  out 
of  the  Gulch  when  Mrs.  Berryn  heard  a  knock  at  the  door ; 
she  opened  it,  and  a  man  handed  her  a  frying-pan,  with  the 
remark,  "  Buffle  is  cracked,"  and  hastily  disappeared. 

In  the  morning  she  was  awakened  by  a  crash  outside  the 
-door,  and,  on  looking  out,  discovered  a  quantity  of  firewood 
ready  cut ;  each  morning  thereafter  found  in  the  same  place 
&  fresh  supply,  which  was  usually  decorated  with  offerings 
<of  different  degrees  of  appropriateness — pieces  of  fresh 
meat,  strings  of  dried  ditto,  blankets  enough  for  a  large  hotel, 
little  packages  of  gold  dust,  case  knives  and  forks,  cans 
of  salt  butter,  and  all  sorts  of  provisions,  in  quantity. 

Each  man  in  camp  fondly  believed  his  own  particular 
revolver  was  better  than  any  other,  and,  as  a  natural  conse- 
quence, the  camp  became  almost  peaceful,  by  reason  of  the 
number  of  pistols  that  were  left  in  front  of  Mrs.  Berryn's 
door.  But  she  carefully  left  them  alone,  and  when  this  was 
discovered  the  boys  sorrowfully  removed  them. 

Then  old  Griff,  living  up  the  Gulch,  with  a  horrible  bull- 
dog for  companion,  brought  his  darling  animal  down  late 
one  dark  night,  and  tied  him  near  the  lady's  residence,  where 
he  discoursed  sweet  sounds  for  two  hours,  until,  to  Mrs. 
Berryn's  delight,  he  broke  his  chain,  and  returned  to  his 
old  home. 

Then  Sandytop,  the  ace-thief,  suddenly  left  camp.     Many 


120  STRANGE  DOINGS  AT  FAT  POCKET  GULCH. 

were  the  surmises  and  bets  on  the  subject ;  and  on  the  third 
day,  when  two  men,  one  of  whom  believed  he  had  gone  to- 
steal  a  mule,  and  the  other  believed  he  had  rolled  into  the 
creek  while  drunk,  were  about  to  refer  the  whole  matter  to- 
pistols,  they  were  surprised  at  seeing  Sandytop  stagger  into 
camp,  under  a  large,  unsightly  bundle.  The  next  day  Mrs. 
Berryn  ate  from  crockery  instead  of  tin,  and  had  a  china 
wash-bowl  and  pitcher. 

Little  Muggy,  who  sold  oat  his  claim  the  day  after  Buffle 
left,  went  to  San  Francisco,  but  reappeared  in  camp  in  a 
few  days,  with  a  large  bundle,  a  handsaw  and  a  plane. 
Some  light  was  thrown  on  the  contents  of  the  bundle  by 
sundry  scraps  of  linen,  cotton,  and  very  soft  flannel,  that 
the  wind  occasionally  blew  from  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Berryn's  abode ;  but.  why  Muggy  suddenly  needed  a  very 
large  window  in  the  only  boarded  side  of  his  house ;  why 
he  never  staked  another  claim  and  went  to  "  washing ;"  why 
his  door  always  had  to  be  unlocked  from  the  inside  before 
any  one  could  get  in,  instead  of  being  ajar,  as  was  the  usual 
custom  with  doors  at  Fat  Pocket  Gulch;  why  visitors- 
always  found  the  floor  strewn  with  shavings  and  blocks,  but 
were  told  to  mind  their  business  if  they  asked  what  he  was 
making ;  and  why  Uppercrust,  an  aristocratic  young  repro- 
bate, who  had  been  a  doctor  in  the  States,  had  suddenly 
taken  up  his  abode  with  Muggy,  were  mysteries  unsolvable 
by  the  united  intellects  of  Fat  Pocket  Gulch. 

It  was  finally  suggested  by  some  one,  that,  as  Muggy 
had  often  and  fluently  cursed  the  "  rockers  "  used  to  wash 
-out  dirt  along  the  Gulch,  it  was  likely  enough  he  was 
inventing  a  new  one,  and  the  ex-doctor,  who,  of  course, 
knew  something  about  chemistry,  was  helping  him  to  work 
an  amalgamator  into  it;  a  careful  comparison  of  bets 
showed  this  to  be  a  fairly  accepted  opinion,  and  so  the 
matter  rested. 

Meanwhile,  Buffle  had  been  untiring  in  his  search,  as  his 
horse,  could  he  have  spoken,  would  have  testified.  Men 
wondered  what  Berryn  had  done  to  Buffle,  and  odds  of  ten 


THE  CHAIN  AND  LOCKET.  121 

to  one  that  some  undertaker  would  soon  have  reason  to 
bless  Buffle  were  freely  offered,  but  seldom  taken.  One 
night  Buffle's  horse  galloped  into  Deadlock  Ridge,  and  the 
rider,  hailing  the  first  man  he  met,  inquired  the  way  to  the 
saloon. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Come,  no  foolin'  thar,"  said  Buffle,  indignantly. 

"I  don't  know,  I  tell  you— I  don't  drink." 

;'  Hang  yer !"  roared  Bufflo,  in  honest  fury  at  what 
seemed  to  him  the  most  stupendous  lie  ever  told  by  a 
miner,  "  I'll  teach  yer  to  lie  to  me."  And  out  came  Buffle's 
pistol. 

The  man  saw  his  danger,  and,  springing  at  Buffle  with 
the  agility  of  a  cat,  snatched  the  pistol  arid  threw  it  on  the 
ground ;  in  an  instant  Buffle's  hand  had  firmly  grasped  the 
man  by  his  shirt-collar,  and,  the  hers 3  taking  fright,  Buffle, 
a  second  later,  found  in  his  hand  a  torn  piece  of  red  flannel, 
a  chain,  and  a  locket,  while  the  man  lay  on  the  groui^d. 

"  At  last !"  exclaime'd  Buffle,  convinced  that  he  had  found 
his  man  ;  but  his  emotions  were  quickly  cooled  by  the  man 
in  the  road,  who,  jumping  from  the  ground,  picked  up 
Buffle's  pistol,  cocked  and  aimed  it,  and  spoke  in  a  grating 
voice,  as  if  through  set  teeth : 

"  Give  back  that  locket  this  second,  or,  as  God  lives,  I'll 
take  it  out  of  a  dead  man's  hand." 

The  rapidity  of  human  thought  is  never  so  beautifully- 
illustrated  as  when  the  owner  of  a  human  mind  is  serving; 
involuntarily  as  a  target. 

"My  friend,"  said  Buffle,  "ef  I've  got  anything  uv 
yourn,  yer  ken  hev  it  on  provin'  property.  "We'll  go  to 
whar  that  fust  light  is  up  above — I'll  walk  the  hoss  slow, 
an'  yer  ken  keep  me  covered  with  the  pistol;  ain't  that 
fair?" 

"  Be  quick,  then,"  said  the  man,  excitedly ;  "  start !" 

The  trip  was  not  more  than  two  minutes  in  length,  but 
it  seemed  a  good  hour  to  Buffle,  whose  acquaintanceship 
with  the  delicacy  of  the  trigger  of  his  beloved  pistol  caused 


122  "  I'LL  APOLOGIZE,  ER  DRINK,  ER  FIGHT." 

his  past  life  to  pass  in  retrospect  before  him  several  times 
before  they  reached  the  light.  The  light  proved  to  be  in 
the  saloon  whose  locality  had  provoked  the  quarrel.  The 
saloon  was  full,  the  door  was  open,  and  there  was  a  buzz  of 
astonishment,  which  culminated  in  a  volley  of  ejaculations, 
in  which  strength  predominated  over  elegance,  as  a  large 
man,  followed  closely  by  a  small  man  with  a  cocked  pistol, 
marched  up  to  the  bar. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Buffle,  "  this  feller  sez  I've  got  some 
uv  his  property,  an'  he's  come  here  to  prove  it.  Now,  feller, 
wot's  yer  claim  ?" 

"A  chain  and  locket,"  said  the  man;  "hang  you,  I  see 
them  in  your  hand  now." 

"  Ennybody  ken  see  a  chain  an'  locket  in  my  hand,"  said 
Buffle,  "but  that  don't  make  it  yourn." 

"The  locket  contains  the  portrait  of  a  lady,  and  the 
inscription  '  Frances  to  Allan ' — look  quick,  or  I'll  shoot !" 
said  the  little  man,  savagely. 

Buffle  opened  it,  and  saw  Mrs.  Berryn's  portrait. 

"  Mister,  yer  right,"  said  he ;  "  here's  yer  property,  an' 
I'll  apologize,  er  drink,  er  fight — er  apologize,  an'  drink,  an9 
fight,  whichever  is  yer  style.  Fust,  however,  ef  ye'll  drop 
that  pistol,  I'll  drink  myself,  consiclerin' — never  mind. 
Denominate  yer  pizen,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  as  the  audience 
crowded  to  the  bar. 

"Buffle,"  whispered  the  barkeeper,  who  knew  the  great 
man  by  sight,  "he's  a  littler  man  than  you." 

"  I  know  it,  boss,"  replied  Buffle,  most  brazenly.  "  He 
sez  he  don't  drink." 

"  Never  saw  him  here  before — there,  he's  goin'  out  now," 
said  the  barkeeper. 

Buffle  turned  and  dashed  through  the  crowd ;  all  who 
held  glasses  quickly  laid  them  down  and  followed. 

"Stand  back,  the  hull  crowd  uv  yer,"  said  Buffle  ;  "this 
ain't  no  fight — me  an'  the  gentleman  got  private  bizness." 
And,  laying  his  hand  on  Berryn's  shoulder,  he  said,"  What 
are  yer  doin'  here,  when  yer  know  a  lady  like  that  ?" 


VOUCHING  FOR  BUFFLE.  123 

"  Suffering  hell  for  abusing  heaven,'"  replied  Berryn, 
passionately. 

"Then  why  don't  yer  go  back?"  inquired  Bu*ffle. 

"  Because  I've  got  no  money  ;  all  luck  has  failed  me  ever 
since  I  left  home — shipwreck,  hunger,  poverty— 

"  Come  back  a  minute,"  interrupted  Bume.  I  forgot  to 
•come  down  with  the  dust  for  the  drinks.  Now  I  tell  yer 
what — I  want  yer  to  go  back  to  my  camp — I've  got  plenty 
uv  gold,  an'  it's  no  good  to  me,  only  fur  gamblin'  an'  drinkin' ; 
yer  welcome  to  enough  uv  it  to  git  yerself  home,  an'  git  on 
yer  feet  when  yer  get  thar." 

Berryn  looked  doubtingly  at  him  as  they  entered  the 
saloon. 

"PYaps  somebody  here  ken  tell  this  gentleman  my 
name  ?"  said  Bume. 

"  Buffle !"  said  several  voices  in  chorus. 

"  Bully !  Now,  p'r'aps  you  same  fellers  ken  tell  him  ef 
I'm  a  man  uv  my  word  ?" 

"  You  bet,"  responded  the  same  chorus. 

"An'  now,  p'r'aps  some  uv  yer'll  sell  me  a  good  hoss, 
pervidin'  yer  don't  want  him  stole  mighty  sudden  ?" 

Several  men  invited  attention  to  their  respective  animals, 
tied  near  the  door.  Promptly  selecting  one,  paying  for  it, 
and  settling  with  the  barkeeper,  and  mounting  his  own 
horse  while  Berryn  mounted  the  new  one,  the  two  men  gal- 
loped away,  leaving  the  bystanders  lost  in  astonishment, 
from  which  they  only  recovered  after  almost  superhuman 
industry  on  the  part  of  the  barkeeper. 


ONE  evening,  when  the  daily  labors  and  household  cares 
of  the  Fat  Pocket  Gulchites  had  ended,  the  residents  of  that 
quiet  village  were  congregated,  as  usual,  at  the  saloon.  It 
was  too  early  for  gambling  and  fighting,  and  the  boys 
chatted  peacefully,  pausing  only  a  few  times  to  drink 
"Here's  her,"  which  had  become  the  standard  toast  of  the 
Gulch.  Conversation  turned  on  Muggy's  invention,  and  a 


SHIRT-SLEEVES   FOR   HANDKERCHIEFS 

few  bets  were  exchanged,  which  showed  the  boys  were  not 
quite  sure  it  was  a  rocker,  after  all.  Suddenly  Sandytop, 
who  had  been  leaning  against  the  door-frame,  and,  looking 
in  the  direction  of  Buffle's  old  cabin,  ejaculated : 

"  '  Tis  a  rocker,  boys — it's  a  rocker,  but — but  not  that 
kind." 

The  boys  poured  out  the  door,  and  saw  an  unusual 
procession  approaching  Mrs.  .Berryn's  cabin;  first  came 
Upper  crust,  the  young  ex-doctor,  then  an  Irishwoman  from 
a  neighboring  settlement,  and  then  Muggy,  bearing  a  baby's 
cradle,  neatly  made  of  pine  boards.  The  doctor  and  woman 
went  in,  and  Muggy,  dropping  the  cradle,  ran  at  full  speed 
to  the  saloon,  and  up  to  the  bar,  the  crowd  following. 

Muggy  looked  along  the  line,  saw  all  the  glasses  were 
filled  and  in  hand,  and  then,  raising  his  own,  exclaimed, 
"  Here's  her,  boys  !"  and  then  went  into  a  fully  developed 
boo-hoo.  And  he  was  not  alone  ;  for  once  the  boys  watered 
their  liquor,  and,  purer  water  God  never  made. 

It  was  some  moments  before  shirt-sleeves  ceased  to 
officiate  as  handkerchiefs  ;  but  just  as  the  boys  commenced 
to  look  savagely  at  each  other,  as  if  threatening  cold  lead  if 
any  one  suspected  undue  tenderness,  Sandy  top,  who  had 
returned  to  his  post  at  the  door  to  give  ease  to  the  stream 
which  his  sleeve  could  not  staunch,  again  startled  the  crowd 
by  staring  earnestly  toward  the  hill  over  which  led  the  trail,, 
and  exclaiming,  "  Good  God !" 

There  was  another  rush  to  the  door,  and  there,  galloping- 
down  the  trail,  was  Buffle  and  another  man.  The  boys 
stared  at  each  other,  but  said  nothing — their  gift  of  swear- 
ing was  not  equal  to  the  occasion. 

Steadily  they  stared  at  the  two  men,  until  Buffle,  reining 
back  a  little,  pointed  his  pistol  threateningly.  They  took 
the  hint,  and  after  they  were  all  inside,  Sandy  top  closed  the 
door  and  the  shutters  of  the  unglazed  windows. 

"  Thar's  my  shanty,"  said  Buffle,  as  they  neared  it  from 
one  side ;  "  that  one  with  two  bar'ls  fur  a  chimley.  You 
jest  go  right  in.  I'll  be  thar  ez  soon  ez  I  put  up  the  hosses." 


USES  A  FAMILIAR  NAME  REVERENTLY.  125 

As  they  reached  the  front,  both  men  started  at  the  sight 
of  the  cradle. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  married  man,  Buffle  ?" 
said  his  companion. 

"  I— well— I— I— don't  tell  everythin',"  stammered  Buffle ; 
and,  catching  the  bridle  of  Berryn's  horse  the  moment  his 
rider  had  dismounted,  Buffle  dashed  off  to  the  saloon,  and 
took  numerous  solitary  drinks,  at  which  no  one  took  offense. 
Then  he  turned,  nodded  significantly  toward  the  old  shanty, 
and  asked  : 

"  How  long  since  ?" 

"  Not  quite  yit — yer  got  him  here  in  time,  Buffle,"  said 
Muggy. 

"Thank  the  Lord!"  said  Buffle.  His  lips  were  very 
familiar  with  the  name  of  the  Lord,  but  they  had  never 
before  used  it  in  this  sense." 

Then,  while  several  men  were  getting  ready  to  ask  Buffle 
where  he  found  his  man — Calif ornians  never  ask  questions 
in  a  hurry— there  came  from  the  direction  of  Buffle's  shanty 
the  sound  of  a  subdued  cry. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  barkeeper,  "there's  no  more 
drinking  at  this  bar  to-night  until — until  I  say  so." 

No  one  murmured.  No  one  swore.  No  one  suggested  a 
game.  An  old  enemy  of  Buffle's  happened  in,  but  that 
worthy,  instead  of  feeling  for  his  pistol,  quietly  left  the 
leaning-post,  and  bowed  his  enemy  into  it. 

The  boys  stood  and  sat  about,  studied  the  cracks  in  the 
floor,  the  pattern  of  the  shutters,  contemplated  the  insides 
of  their  hats,  and  chewed  tobacco  as  if  their  lives  depended 
on  it. 

Buffle  made  frequent  trips  to  the  door,  and  looked  out. 
Suddenly  he  closed  the  door,  and  had  barely  time  to  whis- 
per, "  No  noise,  now,  or  I'll  shoot,"  when  the  doctor  walked 
in.  The  crowd  arose. 

"  It's  all  right,"  gentlemen,"  said  the  doctor — "  as  fine  a 
boy  as  I  ever  saw." 

"  My  treat  for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  boys,"   said  the 


126  THE  NEW  RESIDENT'S  CRADLE. 

barkeeper,  hurriedly  crowding  glasses  and  bottles  on  the 
bar.  "  Her,"  "  Him,"  "  Him,  Junior,"  "  Buffle,"  "  Doc.,"  and 
"  Old  Kockershop,"  as  some  happily  inspired  miner  dubbed 
little  Muggy,  were  drunk  successively. 

The  door  opened  again,  and  in  walked  Allan  Berryn. 
Glancing  quickly  about,  he  soon  distinguished  Buffle.  He- 
grasped  his  hand,  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eye,  and 
exclaimed : 

"Buffle,  you " 

He  was  a  Harvard  graduate,  and  a  fine  talker,  was  Allan 
Berryn,  but,  when  he  had.  spoken  two  words,  he  somehow 
forgot  the  remainder  of  the  speech  he  had  made  up  on  his 
way  over ;  his  silence  for  two  or  three  seconds  seemed  of 
hours  to  every  man  who  looked  on  his  face,  so  that  it  was  a 
relief  to  all  when  he  gave  Buffle  a  mighty  hug,  and  then 
precipitately  retreated. 

Buffle  looked  sheepish,  and  shook  himself. 

"  That  feller  can  outhug  a  grizzly,"  said  he.  "  Boys," 
he  continued,  "  that  chap's  been  buckin'  agin  luck  sence  he's, 
been  in  the  diggin's,  an'  is  clean  busted.  But  his  luck 
begun  to  turn  this  evening,  an'  here's  what  goes  for  keepin' 
the  ball  a-rollin'.  Here's  my  ante  ;"  saying  which,  he  laid 
his  old  hat  on  the  bar,  took  out  his  buckskin  bag  of  gold- 
dust,  and  emptied  it  into  the  hat. 

Bags  came  out  of  pockets  all  around,  and  were  either 
entirely  emptied,  or  had  their  contents  largely  diminished  by 
knife-blades,  which  scooped  out  the  precious  dust,  and 
dropped  it  into  the  hat. 

"  There,"  said  Buffle,  looking  into  the  hat,"  "  I  reckon 
that'll  kerry  'em  back  to  their  folks." 

For  a  fortnight  the  saloon  was  as  qiiiet  as  a  well-ordered 
prayer-meeting,  and  it  was  solemnly  decided  that  no  fight 
with  pistols  should  take  place  nearer  than  The  Bend,  which 
was,  at  least,  a  mile  from  where  the  new  resident's  cradle- 
was  located. 

One  pleasant,  quiet  evening,  Buffle,  who  frequently 
passed  an  hour  with  Berryn  on  the  latter 's  woodpile,  was. 


THE  BABY  PASSED  AROUND.  127 

seen  approaching  the  saloon  with  a  very  small  bundle, 
which,  nevertheless,  occupied  both  his  arms  and  all  his 
attention. 

"  It,  by  thunder,"  said  one.  So  it  was  ;  a  wee,  pink- 
faced,  blue-eyed,  fuzzy-topped  little  thing,  with  one  hand 
frantically  clutching  three  hairs  of  Buffle's  beard. 

"  See  the  little  thing  pull,"  said  one. 

"  Is  that  all  the  nose  they  hev  at  fust  ?"  asked  another, 
seriously. 

"  Can't  yer  take  them  pipes  out  uv  yer  mouths  when  the 
baby's  aroun'  ?"  indignantly  demanded  another. 

Little  Muggy  edged  his  way  through  the  crowd,  threw 
away  his  quid  of  tobacco,  took  the  baby  from  Buffle,  and 
kissed  it  a  dozen  times. 

"I'm  goin'  home,  fellers,"  said  Muggy,  finally.  "I'm 
wanted  by  the  lawyers  for  cuttin'  a  man  that  sassed  me 
while  I  was  shoe-makin'.  But  I'm  a-goin'  to  see  my  young 
uns,  even  if  all  creation  wants  me." 

"An'  I'm  a-goin',  too,"  said  Buffle.  "I'm  wanted  pretty 
bad  by  some  that's  East,  but  I  reckon  I'm  well  enough  hid 
by  the  liar  that's  grow'd  sence  I  wuz  a  boy,  an'  dug  out  from 
old  Varmont.  I've  had  a  new  taste  uv  decency  lately,  an' 
I'm  goin'  to  see  ef  I  can't  stan'  it  for  a  stiddy  diet.  The 
chap  over  to  the  shanty  sez  he  ken  git  me  somethin'  to  do, 
an'  ennythin's  better'n  gamblin',  drinkin',  and  fightin'. 

"  It's  agin  the  law  to  kerry  shootin' -irons  there,  Buffle," 
suggested  one. 

"  Yes,  an'  they  got  a  new  kind  uv  a  law  there,  to  keep  a 
man  from  takin'  his  bitters,"  said  another. 

"  Yes,"  said  Buffle,  "  all  that's  mighty  tough,  but  ef  a 
feller's  bound  fur  bed-rock,  he  might  ez  well  git  that  all  uv 
a  sudden,  ef  he  ken." 

Buffle  started  toward  the  door,  stopped  as  if  he  had 
something  else  to  say,  started  again,  hesitated,  feigned 
indignation  at  the  baby,  flushed  the  least  bit,  opened  the 
door,  partly  closed  it  again,  squeezed  himself  out  and  dis- 
playing only  the  tip  of  his  nose,  roared : 


128 


THE  BEKRYN'S  ESCORT. 


"  This  baby's  name  is  Allan  Buffle  Berry n  —  Allen 
Buffle  JBerryn!"  and  then  rushed  at  full  speed  to  leave 
the  baby  at  home,  while  the  boys  clinked  glasses  me- 
lodiously. 

At  the  end  of  another  fortnight  there  was  a  procession 
formed  at  Fat  Pocket  Gulch ;  two  horses,  one  wearing  a 
side-saddle,  were  brought  to  the  door  of  Buffle's  old  house, 
and  Mrs.  Berryn  and  her  husband  mounted  them  ;  they 
were  soon  joined  by  Buffle  and  Muggy. 


"THIS  BABY'S  NAME  is  ALLAN  BUFFLE  BEKRYN." 

-For  months  after  there  was  mourning  far  and  wide  among 
owners  of  mules  and  horses,  for  each  Gulchite  had  been  out 
stealing,  that  he  might  ride  with  the  escort  which  was  to  see 
the  Berryns  safely  to  the  crossing.  An  advance-guard  was 
sent  ahead,  and  the  party  were  about  to  start,  when  Buffle 
suddenly  dismounted  and  entered  his  old  cabin ;  when  he 
reappeared,  a  cloud  of  smoke  followed  him. 

"  Thar,"  said  he,  a  moment  later,  as  flames  were  seen 


THE   CHARACTERISTIC  DEPARTURE. 


129 


"bursting  through  the  roof,  "  no  galoot  uv  a  miner  don't  live 
in  that  shanty  after  that.  Git." 

Away  galloped  the  party,  the  baby  in  the  arms  of  its 
father.  The  crossing  was  safely  reached,  and  the  stage  had 
room  for  the  whole  party,  and,  after  a  hearty  hand-shaking 
all  around,  the  stage  started.  Sandytop  threw  ene  of  his 
only  two  shoes  after  it  for  luck. 

As  the  stage  was  disappearing  around  a  bend,  a  little 
way  from  the  crossing,  the  back  curtain  was  suddenly  thrown 
up,  a  baby,  backed  by  a  white  hat  and  yellow  beard,  was 
seen,  and  a  familiar  voice  was  heard  to  roar,  "  Allan  BuMe. 
Berryn." 


MATALETTE'S   SECTION. 

tt  "VTICE  place  ?  I  guess  it  is  ;  tlier  hain't  no  sucli  farm  in 
Jj|  this  part  of  Illinoy,  nor  anywhere  else  that  /  knows 
on.  Two-story  house,  and  painted  instead  of  being  white- 
washed ;  blinds  on  the  winders  ;  no  thirty-dollar  horses  in 
the  barn,  an'  no  old,  unpainted  wagons  around ;  no  deadened 
trees  standin'  aroun'  in  the  corn-lot  or  the  wheat-field — not 
a  one.  Good  cribs  to  hold  his  corn,  instead  of  leaving  it  on 
the  stalk,  or  tuckin'  it  away  in  holler  sycamore  logs,  good 
pump  to  h'ist  his  drinkin'- water  with,  good  help  to  keep  up 
with  the  work — why,  ther  hain't  a  man  on  Mat  alette's  whole 
place  that  don't  look  smart  enough  to  run  a  farm  all  alone 
by  himself.  And  money — well,  he  don't  ask  no  credit  of  no- 
man  :  he  just  hauls  out  his  money  and  pays  up,  as  if  he 
enjoyed  gettin'  rid  of  it.  There's  nobody  like  him  in  these 
parts,  you  can  just  bet  your  life." 

The  speaker  was  a  Southern  Illinoisan  of  twenty-five 
years  ago,  and  his  only  auditor  was  a  brother  farmer. 

Both  worked  hard  and  shook  often  (with  ague)  between 
the  seed  time  and  harvest,  but  neither  had  succeeded  in 
amassing  such  comfortable  results  as  had  seemed  to  reward 
the  efforts  of  their  neighbor  Matalette.  For  the  listener  had 
not  heard  half  the  story  of  Matalette' s  advantages.  He  was 
as  good-natured,  smart  and  hospitable  as  he  was  lucky. 
He  indulged  in  the  unusual  extravagance  of  a  hired  cook ; 
and  the  neighbors,  though  they,  on  principle,  disapproved  of 
such  expenditure,  never  failed  to  appreciate  the  results  of 
the  said  cook's  labors. 

130 


MATALETTE  HAD  A  DAUGHTER.  131 

Matalette  had  a  sideboard,  too,  and  the  contents  smelled 
and  tasted  very  unlike  the  liquor  which  was  sold  at  the  only 
store  in  Bonpas  Bottoms. 

When  young  Lauquer,  who  was  making  a  gallant  fight 
against  a  stumpy  quarter  section,  had  his  only  horse  li& 
down  and  die  just  as  the  second  corn-plowing  season  came- 
on,  it  was  Matalette  wrho  supplied  the  money  which  bought 
the  new  horse. 

When  the  inhabitants  of  the  Bottoms  wondered  and 
talked  and  argued  about  the  advisability  of  trying  some  new 
seed-wheat,  which  had  the  reputation  of  being  very  heavyr 
Matalette  settled  the  whole  question  by  ordering  a  large  lot,, 
and  distributing  it  with  his  compliments. 

Lastly — though  the  statement  has  not,  strictly  speaking, 
any  agricultural  bearing — Matalette  had  a  daughter.  There 
were  plenty  of  daughters  among  the  families  in  Bonpas= 
Bottoms,  and  many  of  them  were  very  estimable  girls ;  but 
Helen  Matalette  was  very  different  from  any  of  them. 

"  Always  knows  just  what  to  say  and  do,"  remarked  Syle- 
Conover,  one  day,  at  the  store,  where  the  male  gossips  of 
the  neighborhood  met  to  exchange  views.  "  A  fellow  goes 
up  to  see  Matalette — goes  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  not  expectin" 
to  see  any  women  around — when  who  comes  to  the  door  but 
her.  JTor  a  minute  a  fellow  wishes  he  could  fly,  or  sink  r 
next  minute  he  feels  as  if  he'd  been  acquainted  with  her  for 
a,  year.  Hanged  if  I  understand  it,  but  she's  the  kind  of 
gal  I  go  in  fur  ! " 

The  latter  clause  of  Syle's  speech  fitly  expressed  they 
sentiments  of  all  the  young  men  in  Bonpas  Bottoms,  as. 
well  as  of  many  gentlemen  not  so  young. 

Old  men — farmers  with  daughters  of  their  own — would 
cheerfully  forego  the  delights  of  either  a  prayer-meeting  or 
a  circus,  and  suddenly  find  some  business  to  transact  with 
Matalette,  whenever  there  seemed  a  reasonable  chance  of 
seeing  Helen  ;  and  such  of  them  as  had  sons  of  a  marriage- 
able age  would  express  to  those  young  men  their  entire^ 
willingness  to  be  promoted  to  the  rank  of  fathers-in-law. 


132  STRANGE   COMMOTION  AT   THE   SUPPER-TABLE. 

There  was  just  one  unpleasant  thing  about  the  Mata- 
lettes,  both  father  and  daughter,  and  that  was,  the  ease  with 
which  one  could  startle  them. 

It  was  rather  chilling,  until  one  knew  Matalette  well,  to 
see  him  tremble  and  start  violently  on  being  merely  slapped 
on  the  shoulder  by  some  one  whose  approach  he  had  not 
noticed ;  it  was  equally  unpleasant  for  a  newcomer,  on  sud- 
denly confronting  Helen,  to  see  her  turn  pale,  and  look 
quickly  and  furtively  about,  as  if  preparing  to  run. 

The  editor  of  the  Bonpas  Corriblade,  in  a  sonnet  addressed 
to  "  H.  M.,"  compared  this  action  to  that  of  a  startled  fawn ; 
but  the  public  wondered  whether  Helen's  father  could  possi- 
bly be  excused  in  like  manner,  and  whether  the  comparison 
could,  with  propriety,  be  extended  so  as  to  include  the  three 
hired  men,  who,  curiously  enough,  were  equally  timorous  at 
first  acquaintance. 

But  this  single  fault  of  the  Matalette s  and  their  adherents 
was  soon  forgotten,  for  it  did  not  require  a  long  residence  in 
Bonpas  Bottoms  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  every  person 
living  in  that  favored  section,  and  strangers — except  such 
passengers  as  occasionally  strolled  ashore  while  the  steam- 
boat landed  supplies  for  the  store,  or  shipped  the  grain 
which  Matalette  was  continually  buying  and  sending  to  New 
Orleans — seldom  found  their  way  to  Bonpas  Bottoms. 

The  Matalettes  sat  at  supper  one  evening,  when  there 
was  heard  a  knock  at  the  door.  There  was  in  an  instant  an 
unusual  commotion  about  the  table,  at  which  sat  the  three 
hired  men,  with  the  host  and  his  daughter — a  commotion 
most  extraordinary  for  a  land  in  which  neither  Indians  nor 
burglars  were  known. 

Each  of  the  hired  men  hastily  clicked  something  under 
the  table,  while  Helen  turned  pale,  but  quickly  drew  a  small 
stiletto  from  a  fold  of  her  dress. 

"  Eeady  ?"  asked  Matalette,  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  took  a 
candle  from  the  table,  and  placed  his  unoccupied  hand  in 
his  pocket. 

"Yes,"  whispered  each  of  the  men,  while  Helen  nodded. 


WELCOMING  THE  YOUNG  PREACHER.  133 

"Who's  there?"  shouted  Matalette,  approaching  the 
outer  door. 

"  I — Asbury  Crewne — the  new  circuit  preacher,"  replied 
a  voice.  "  I'm  wet,  cold  and  hungry — can  you  give  me  shel- 
ter, in  the  name  of  my  Master?" 

"  Certainly ! "  cried  Matalette,  hastening  to  open  the 
door,  while  the  three  hired  men  rapidly  repocketed  their 
pistols,  and  Helen  gave  vent  to  a  sigh  of  relief. 

They  heard  a  heavy  pack  thrown  on  the  floor,  a  hearty 
greeting  from  Matalette,  and  then  they  saw  in  the  doorway 
a  tall,  straight  young  man,  whose  blue  eyes,  heavy,  closely 
curling  yellow  hair  and  finely  cut  features  made  him  ex- 
tremely handsome,  despite  a  solemn,  puritanical  look  which 
not  even  a  driving  rain  and  a  cold  wind  had  been  able  to 
banish  from  his  face. 

There  were  many  worthy  young  men  in  the  Bonpas 
Bottoms,  but  none  of  them  were  at  all  so  fine-looking  as 
Asbury  Crewne  ;  so,  at  least,  Helen  seemed  to  think,  for  she 
looked  at  him  steadily,  except  when  he  was  looking  at  her. 
Of  course,  Crewne,  being  a  preacher,  took  none  but  a 
spiritual  interest  in  young  ladies ;  but  where  a  person's  face 
seems  to  show  forth  the  owner's  whole  soul,  as  was  the  case 
with  Helen  Matalette' s,  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  is  certainly 
justifiable  in  looking  oft  and  long  at  it — nay,  is  even  grossly 
culpable  if  he  does  not  regard  it  with  a  lively  and  tender 
interest. 

Such  seemed  to  be  the  young  divine's  train  of  reasoning, 
and  his  consequent  conclusion,  for,  from  the  time  he  ex- 
changed his  dripping  clothing  for  a  suit  of  Matalette's  own, 
he  addressed  his  conversation  almost  entirely  to  Helen.  And 
Helen,  who  very  seldom  met,  in  the  Bonpas  Bottoms,  gen- 
tlemen of  taste  and  intelligence,  seemed  to  be  spending  an 
unusually  agreeable  evening,  if  her  radiant  and  expressive 
countenance  might  be  trusted  to  tell  the  truth. 

When  the  young  preacher,  according  to  the  custom  of 
his  class  and  denomination,  at  that  day,  finally  turned  the 
course  of  conversation  toward  the  one  reputed  object  of  his 


134  A   SPOBT  IN   SPniIT. 

life,  it  was  with  a  sigh  which  indicated,  perhaps,  how 
earnestly  he  regretted  that  the  dominion  of  Satan  in  the  world 
•compelled  him  to  withdraw  his  soul  from  such  pure  and  un- 
usual delights  as  had  been  his  during  that  evening.  And 
when,  after  offering  a  prayer  with  the  family,  Crewne  fol- 
lowed Matalette  to  a  chamber  to  rest,  Helen  bade  him  good- 
night with  a  bright  smile  which  mixed  itself  up  inextricably 
with  his  private  devotions,  his  thoughts  and  his  plans  for 
forthcoming  sermons,  and  seriously  curtailed  his  night's 
rest  in  addition. 

In  the  morning  it  was  found  that  his  clothing  was  still 
wet,  so,  as  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  go  to 
fulfil  an  appointment,  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  retain 
Matalette's  clothing,  and  return  within  a  few  days  for  his 
own. 

Then  Matalette,  learning  that  the  young  man  was  travel- 
ing his  circuit  on  foot,  insisted  on  lending  him  a  horse,  and 
on  giving  him  money  with  which  to  purchase  one. 

It  was  a  great  sum  of  money — more  than  his  salary  for  a 
year  amounted  to — and  the  young  man's  feelings  almost 
overcame  him  as  he  tried  to  utter  his  thanks;  but  just 
then  Helen  made  her  first  appearance  during  the  morning, 
and  from  the  instant  she  greeted  Crewne  all  thoughts  of 
gratitude  seemed  to  escape  his  mind,  unless,  indeed,  he 
suddenly  determined  to  express  his  thanks  through  a  third 
party.  Such  a  supposition  would  have  been  fully  warranted 
by  the  expressive  looks  he  cast  upon  Helen's  handsome  face. 

Had  any  member  of  the  flock  at  Mount  Pisgah  Station 
seen  these  two  young  people  during  the  moment  or  two 
which  followed  Helen's  appearance,  he  would  have  sorrow- 
fully but  promptly  dismissed  from  his  mind  any  expectation 
of  hearing  the  sermon  which  Crewne  had  promised  to  preach 
at  Mount  Pisgah  that  morning.  But  the  young  preacher 
was  of  no  ordinary  human  pattern  :  with  sorrow,  yet  deter- 
mination, he  bade  Helen  good-by,  and  though,  as  he  rode 
away,  he  frequently  turned  his  head,  he  never  stopped  his 
horse. 


THE  RIGHT  PIG  BY  THE  EAR  135 

Down  the  road  through  the  dense  forest  he  went,  trying, 
by  reading  his  Bible  as  he  rode,  to  get  his  mind  in  proper 
condition  for  a  mighty  effort  at  Mount  Pisgah.  He  wasn't  con- 
scious of  doing  such  a  thing — he  could  honestly  lay  his  hand 
on  his  heart  and  say  he  had'nt  the  slightest  intention  of 
doing  anything  of  the  kind,  yet  somehow  his  Bible  opened 
at  the  Song  of  Solomon.  For  a  moment  he  read,  but  for  a 
moment  only  ;  then  he  shut  his  lips  tightly,  and  deliberately 
commenced  reading  the  Book  of  Psalms. 

He  had  fairly  restored  his  mind  to  working  shape,  and 
was  just  whispering  fervent  thanks  to  the  Lord,  when  a 
couple  of  horsemen  galloped  up  to  him.  As  he  turned  his 
head  to  see  who  they  might  be,  he  observed  that  each  of 
them  held  a  pistol  in  a  very  threatening  manner.  As  he 
looked,  however,  the  pistols  dropped,  and  one  of  the  riders 
indulged  in  a  profane  expression  of  disappointment. 

"  It's  Matalette's  clothes  and  horse,  Jim,"  he  said  to  his 
companion,  "  but  it's  the  preacher's  face. 

"  And  you  have  been  providentially  deferred  from  com- 
mitting a  great  crime  !"  exclaimed  Crewne,  with  a  reproving 
look.  "  Mr.  Matalette  took  me  in  last  night,  wet,  cold,  and 
footsore  ;  this  morning  I  departed,  refreshed,  clothed  and 
mounted.  To  rob  a  man  who  is  so  lavish  of— 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  parson,"  interrupted  one  of  the  men, 
""  but  you  haven't  got  the  right  pig  by  the  ear.  "We're  not 
highwaymen.  I'm  the  sheriff  of  this  county,  and  Jim's  a 
constable.  And  as  for  Matalette,  he's  a  counterfeiter,  and 
we're  after  him." 

Crewne  dropped  his  bridle-rein,  and  his  lower  jaw,  as  he 
exclaimed : 

"  Impossible !" 

"'Tis,  eh?"  said  the  sheriff.  "Well,  we've  examined 
several  lots  of  money  he's  paid  out  lately,  and  there  isn't  a 
good  bill  among  'em." 

Crewne  mechanically  put  his  hands  in  his  pocket  and 
drew  forth  the  money  Matalette  had  given  him  to  buy  a 
horse  with.  The  sheriff  snatched  it. 


136         "LEFT  TOWN  'FORE  THE  PUDDIN'  WAS  DONE." 

"  That's  some  of  his  stock  ?"  said  he,  looking  it  rapidly 
over.  That  seems  good  enough." 

"What  will  become  of  his  poor  daughter?"  ejaculated 
the  young  preacher,  with  a  vacant  look. 

"  What,  Helen  ?"  queried  the  sheriff.  "  She's  the  best 
engraver  of  counterfeits  there  is  in  the  whole  West." 

"Dreadful — dreadful!"  exclaimed  the  young  preacher, 
putting  his  hand  over  his  eyes. 

"Fact,"  replied  the  sheriff.  "You  parsons  have  got  a 
big  job  to  do  'fore  this  world's  in  the  right  shape,  an'  sheriffs 
and  constables  ain't  needed.  Wish  you  good  luck  at  it, 
though  'twill  be  bad  for  trade.  You'll  keep  mum  'bout  this 
case,  of  course.  We'll  catch  'em  in  the  act  finally;  then 
there  won't  be  any  danger  about  not  getting  a  conviction, 
an'  our  reward,  that's  offered  by  the  banks." 

The  sheriff  and  his  assistant  galloped  on  to  the  village 
they  had  been  approaching  when  they  overtook  Crewne ; 
but  the  young  minister  did  not  accompany  them,  although 
the  village  toward  which  they  rode  was  the  one  in  which  he 
was  to  preach  that  morning. 

Perhaps  he  needed  more  time  and  quietness  in  which 
to  compose  his  sermon.  If  this  supposition  is  correct, 
it  may  account  for  the  ,  fact  that  the  members  of  the 
Mount  Pisgah  congregation  pronounced  his  sermon  that 
day,  from  the  text,  "  All  is  vanity,"  one  of  his  most  power- 
ful efforts. 

In  fact,  old  Mrs.  Beets,  who  had  for  time  immemorial 
entertained  the  probable  angels  who  appeared  at  Mount 
Pisgah  in  ministerial  guise,  remarked  that  "preacher 
seemed  all  tuckered  out  by  that  talk ;  tuk  his  critter,  an* 
left  town  'fore  the  puddin'  was  done." 

That  same  evening,  the  sheriff  and  his  deputy,  with 
several  special  assistants,  rode  from  Mount  Pisgah  toward 
Matalette's  section. 

The  night  was  dark,  rainy  and  cloudy;  the  horses  stum- 
bled over  roots  and  logs  in  the  imperfectly  made  road ;  the 
low-hanging  branches  spitefully  cut  the  faces  of  the  riders, 


THE  SHEEIFF  IN  DANGEE.  137 

and  brought  several  hats  to  grief,  and  snatched  the  sheriff's 
pipe  out  of  his  mouth. 

And  yet  the  sheriff  seemed  in  excellent  spirits.  To  be 
sure,  he  softly  whistled  the  air  of,  "  Jordan  is  a  hard  road  to 
travel,"  which  was  the  popular  air  twenty-five  years  ago,  but 
there  was  a  merry  tone  to  his  whistle.  He  stepped  whist- 
ling suddenly,  and  remarked  to  the  constable  : 

"Got  notice  to-day  of  another  new  counterfeit.  Five 
hundred  offered  for  arrest  and  conviction  on  that.  Hope  we 
can  prove  that  on  Matalette's  gang.  We  can  go  out  of 
politics,  and  run  handsome  farms  of  our  own,  if  things  go 
all  right  to-night.  Don't  know  but  I'd  give  my  whole  share, 
though,  to  whoever  would  arrest  Helen.  It's  a  dog's  life, 
anyhow,  this  bein'  a  sheriff.  I  won't  complain,  however,  if 
we  get  that  gang  to-night." 

The  party  rode  on  until  they  were  within  a  mile  of  Mata- 
lette's section,  when  they  reined  their  horses  into  the 
woods,  dismounted,  left  a  man  on  watch,  and  approached 
the  dwelling  on  foot. 

Beaching  the  fence,  the  party  halted,  whispered  together 
for  a  moment,  and  silently  surrounded  the  house  in  different 
directions. 

The  sheriff  removed  his  boots,  walked  noiselessly  around 
the  house,  saw  that  he  had  a  man  at  each  door  and  window, 
and  posted  one  at  the  cellar-door.  Then  the  sheriff  put  on 
his  boots,  approached  the  front  door,  and  knocked  loudly. 

There  was  no  response.  The  light  was  streaming 
brightly  from  one  of  the  windows,  and  the  sheriff  tried  to 
look  in,  but  the  thick  curtain  prevented  him.  He  knocked 
again,  and  louder,  but  still  there  was  no  response.  Then  he 
became  uneasy.  He  was  a  brave  man  when  he  knew  what 
was  to  be  met,  but  now  all  sorts  of  uncomfortable  suspicions 
crossed  his  mind  ;  the  rascals  might  be  up-stairs  waiting  for 
a  quiet  opportunity  to  shoot  down  at  him,  or  they  might 
be  under  the  small  stoop  on  which  he  stood,  and  preparing 
to  fire  up  at  him.  They  might  be  quietly  burning  fcheir 
spurious  money  up-stairs,  so  as  to  destroy  the  evidence 


138  A   SABBATH-SCHOOL   SUPEEINTENDENT   SWEAES. 

against  them  ;  they  might  be  in  the  cellar  burying  the 
plates. 

The  sheriff  could  endure  the  suspense  no  longer.  Signal- 
ing to  him  two  of  his  men,  he,  with  a  blow  of  a  stick  of  wood, 
broke  in  the  window-sash.  As,  immediately  afterward,  he 
tore  aside  the  curtain,  he  and  his  assistance  presented 
pistols  and  shouted : 

"  Surrender !" 

No  one  was  visible,  and  the  sheriff  only  concealed  his 
sheepish  feelings  by  jumping  into  the  room.  His  assistants 
followed  him,  and  they  searched  the  entire  house  without 
finding  any  one. 

.  They  searched  the  cellar,  the  outhouses,  and  the  barn, 
but  encountered  only  the  inquiring  glances  of  the  horses  and 
cattle.  Then  they  searched  the  house  anew,  hoping  to  find 
proof  of  the  guilt  of  Matalette  and  his  family ;  but,  excepting 
holes  in  the  floor  of  a  vacant  room,  they  found  nothing  which 
might  not  be  expected  in  a  comfortable  home. 

Suddenly  some  one  thought  of  the  boats  which  Mata- 
lette kept  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  and  a  detachment, 
headed  by  the  sheriff,  went  hastily  down  to  examine  them. 

The  boats  were  gone — not  even  the  tiniest  canoe  or  most 
dilapidated  skiff  remained.  It  is  grievous  to  relate — but 
truth  is  truth — that  the  sheriff,  who  was  on  Sundays  a  Sab- 
bath-school superintendent,  now  lost  his  temper  and  swore 
frightfully.  But  no  boats  were  conjured  up  by  the  sheriff's 
language,  nor  did  his  assistance  succeed  in  finding  any  up 
the  creek  ;  so  the  party  returned  to  the  house,  and  resorted 
to  the  illegal  measure  of  helping  themselves  liberally  to  the 
contents  of  Mat  alette's  sideboard. 

Meanwhile  a  black  mass,  floating  down  the  Wabash, 
about  a  dozen  miles  below  the  Bonpas's  mouth,  seemed  the 
cause  of  some  mysterious  plunging  and  splashing  in  the  river. 
Finally  an  aperture  appeared  in  the  black  mass,  and  the 
light  streamed  out.  Then  the  figure  of  a  man  appeared  in 
the  aperture,  and  all  was  dark  again. 

As  the  figure  disappeared  within  the  mass,  three  bearded 


THE  MINISTER'S  RECORD.  139 

men,  dressed  like  emigrants,  looked  up  furtively,  one  yellow- 
haired  man  stared  vacantly  and  sadly  into  the  fire  which 
illumed  the  cabin  of  the  little  trading  boat,  while  Helen 
Matalette  sprang  forward  and  threw  her  arms  about  the 
figure's  neck. 

"It's  all  gone,  Nell,"  said  the  man.  "Presses  and  plates 
are  where  nobody  will  be  likely  to  find  them.  The  Wabash 
won't  tell  secrets." 

"  I'm  so  glad — oA,  so  glad !"  cried  the  girl. 

"It's  a  fortune  thrown  away,"  said  one  of  the  men, 
moodily. 

"Yes,  and  a  bad  name,  too,"  said  she,  with  flashing 
eyes. 

"  We're  beggars  for  life,  anyhow,"  growled  another  of 
the  men. 

"Nonsense  !"  exclaimed  Matalette.  "Nell's  right  —  if 
we're  not  tracked  and  caught,  I'll  never  be  sorry  that  we 
sunk  the  accursed  business  for  ever.  And,  considering  our 
narrow  escape,  and  .how  it  happened,  I  don't  think  we're 
very  gentlemanly  to  sit  here  bemoaning  our  luck.  Mr. 
Crewne,"  continued  Matalette,  crossing  to  the  yellow-haired 
figure  in  front  of  the  fire,  "  you've  saved  me — what  can  I 
give  you?" 

The  young  preacher  recovered  himself,  and  replied, 
briefly : 

"Your  soul." 

Matalette  winced,  and,  in  a  weak  voice,  asked : 

"Anything  else?" 

Crewne  looked  toward  Helen ;  Helen  blushed,  and 
looked  a  little  frightened ;  Crewne  blushed,  too,  and  seemed 
to  be  clearing  his  throat;  then,  with  a  mighty  effort,  lie 
said  : 

"Yes— Helen." 

The  counterfeiter  looked  at  his  daughter  for  an  instant, 
and  then  failed  to  see  her  partly  because  something  marred 
the  clearness  of  his  vision  just  then,  and  partly  because 
Crewne,  interpreting  the 'father's  silence  as  consent,  took 


140 


A  YOUNG  PEEACHER  AND  A   HANDSOME  WIFE. 


possession  of  the  reward  lie  had  named,  and  almost  hid  her 
from  her  father's  view. 

Matalette's  section  was  finally  sold  for  taxes,  and  was 
never  reclaimed,  but  the  excitement  relating  to  its  former 
occupants  was  for  years  so  great  that  the  purchasers  of  the 
estate  found  it  worldly  wisdom  to  dispense  refreshments  on 
the  ground. 

As  for  Crewne — a  few  months  after  the  occurrences 
mentioned  above  there  appeared,  in  the  wilds  of  Missouri, 
a  young  preacher  with  unusual  zeal  and  a  handsome  wife. 
And  about  the  same  time  four  men  entered  a  quarter-section 
of  prairie-land  near  the  young  preacher's  station,  and 
appeared  then  and  evermore  to  be  the  most  ardent  and 
faithful  of  the  young  man's  admirers. 


A  STOEY  OF  TEN  MILE  GULCH. 


fTIHE  horse  which  Mr.  Tom  Kuger  rode  kept  the  path, 
J[  steep  and  rugged  though  it  was,  without  any  guidance 
from  him,  and  its  mate  followed  demurely.  They  were 
accustomed  to  it ;  and  many  a  mile  had  they  traversed  in 
this  way,  taking  turns  at  carrying  their  owner  and  master. 
Indeed,  the  trio  seemed  inseparable,  and  "  as  happy  as  Tom 
ttuger  and  his  horses  "  was  a  phrase  that  was  very  often 
heard  in  every  mining  camp  and  settlement. 

As  for  Mr.  Tom  Euger  himself,  very  little  was  known  of 
him  save  what  had  been  learned  during  the  two  years  that 
he  had  sojourned  among  them.  Where  he  came  from  never 
was  known,  nor  asked  but  once  by  the  same  person.  All 
that  could  be  said  of  him  might  be  summed  up  in  the  fol- 
lowing statement : 

"  The  finest-looking,  the  best-dressed,  and  the  best-man- 
nered man  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  the  best  horseman." 

These  were  the  words  of  "mine  host"  at  the  Ten  Mile 
House,  and,  as  he  was  a  gentleman  whose  word  was  as  good 
as  his  paper,  we  will  accept  them  as  truth. 

As  Mr.  Euger  rode  down  the  mountain-side  that  beauti- 
ful Autumn  day,  dressed  in  the  finest  of  broadcloth,  with 
linen  of  the  most  immaculate  whiteness,  smoking  what 
appeared  to  be  a  very  good  cigar,  and  humming  to  himself 
a  fragment  of  some  old  song,  he  looked  strangely  out  of 
place. 

141 


142  IN   SEARCH   OF  A   BROTHER. 

So  thought  Miss  Fanny  Borlan  as  she  looked  out  of  the 
stage-window,  and  caught  her  first  glimpse  of  him  just 
where  his  path  intersected  the  stage-road ;  and  she  would 
have  asked  the  driver  about  him,  had  he  not  been  so  near. 

Mr.  Kuger  caught  sight  of  her  face  about  that  time,  and 
tossing  away  the  cigar,  he  lifted  his  hat  to  her  in  the  most 
approved  style. 

She  acknowledged  the  salute  by  a  bow,  and  when  he 
rode  up  to  the  side  of  the  stage,  and  made  some  casual 
remark  about  the  fine  weather,  she  did  not  choose  to  con- 
sider it  out  of  the  way  to  receive  this  advance  toward  a 
traveling  acquaintance  with  seeming  cordiality. 

"  Have  you  traveled  far  ?"  he  asked. 

"  From  the  Atlantic  coast,  sir." 

"  The  same  journey  that  I  intend  to  take  some  of  these 
days,  only  that  I  hope  to  substitute  the  word  Pacific  at  its 
termination.  I  hope  you  are  near  the  end  of  your  journey 
in  this  direction?" 

"  My  destination  is  Ten  Mile  Gulch,  I  believe  ;  but  you 
have  such  horrid  names  out  here." 

"  I  presume  they  do  appear  somewhat  queer  to  a  stran- 
ger, but  they  nearly  all  have  the  merit  of  being  appropriate. 
You  stop  at  the  settlement  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  My  brother  wrote  to  me  to  come  to 
Ten  Mile  Gulch.  Is  it  the  name  of  a  town  ?" 

"  Both  of  a  village  and  a  mining  district,  from  which  the 
village  takes  its  name.  Is  your  brother  a  miner?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  presume  he  intended  to  meet  you  at  the  settlement. 
You  will  no  doubt  find  him  at  the  tavern ;  if  not,  I  will  tell 
him  of  your  arrival,  for  my  way  leads  through  the  mines." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     My  brother's  name  is  John  Borlan." 

"  I  am  somewhat  acquainted  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Buger, 
"  though  in  this  region  of  strange  names  we  call  him  Jack. 
My  name  is  Thomas  Euger." 

"Tom,  in  California  style?"  she  asked,  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  her  eye. 


143 

"  Yes,  Miss  Borlan,"  he  said,  also  smiling.  "  Tom  Ruger 
is  well  known  where  Thomas  Ruger  never  was  heard  of. 
And  now  I  will  bid  you  good-day,  Miss  Borlan,  for  I  am  in 
something  of  a  hurry  to  reach  the  settlement.  If  I  do  not 
find  Jack  there,  I  will  go  on  to  the  mines  and  tell  him." 

"  Ah,  Miss,  you  don't  have,  such  men  as  Tom  Ruger  out 
where  you  come  from,"  said  the  driver,  as  Tom  disappeared 
up  the  road.  "And  them  nags  of  his'n  can't  be  beat  this 
side  of  the  mountains.  He  makes  a  heap  o'  money  with  'em." 

"  What !  a  horse-jockey  ?"  exclaimed  Miss  Borlan. 

"  We  don't  call  him  that,  miss.  Some  says  he's  a  sport- 
in'  man,  which  ain't  nothin'  ag'in  him,  for  the  country's 
new,  ye  see.  He's  got  heaps  o'  money  anyway,  and  there 
ain't  a  camp  nor  a  town  on  the  coast  that  don't  know  Tom 
Ruger.  Ah,  ye  don't  have  such  men  as  Tommy.  He'd  be 
at  home  in  a  palace,  now  wouldn't  he  ?  And  it's  jest  the 
same  in  a  miner's  shanty.  Ye  don't  have  such  men  as  he. 
If  he  takes  a  likin'  to  anybody,  he  sticks  to  'em  through 
thick  and  thin  ;  but  if  he  gits  ag'in  ye  once,  he's — the — very 
—deuce.  Ah,  ye  don't  have  no  such  man  out  where  you 
come  from." 

She  did  not  care  to  dispute  this  point.  In  fact,  after 
what  she  had  seen  and  heard,  she  was  inclined  to  believe 
that  there  was  no  such  men  as  Tom  Ruger  out  where  she 
had  come  from  ;  so  she  made  no  reply  ;  and  the  driver,  fol- 
lowing out  his  train  of  thought,  rattled  on  about  Tom  Ruger 
until  they  came  in  sight  of  Ten  Mile  Gulch,  winding  up  his 
narrative  with  the  sage,  but  rather  unexpected,  remark,  that 
there  weren't  no  such  men  as  Tom  Ruger  out  where  she 
had  come  from. 

II. 

THE  barroom  at  the  Miners'  Home  mignt  have  been  more 
crowded  at  some  former  period  of  its  existence,  but  to  have 
duplicated  the  two  dozen  faces  and  forms  of  the  two  dozen 
Ten  Milers  who  were  congregated  there  that  beautiful 
Autumn  afternoon  would  have  been  a  hopeless  task. 


144  WHO   MADE  THE  PUNCTURE? 

Ten  Mile  Gulch  had  turned  out  en  masse,  and  those  same 
Ten  Milers  were  distinguished  neither  for  their  good  looks, 
nor  taste  in  dress,  nor  softness  of  heart  or  language,  nor 
elegance  of  manners.  Further  than  that  we  do  not  care  to 
go  at  present. 

But  there  was  one  face  and  one  form  absent.  No  more 
would  the  genial  atmosphere  of  that  barroom  respond  to  the 
Leavings  of  his  broad  chest,  no  more  would  the  dignified 
concoctor  of  rare  and  villainous  drinks  pass  him  the  whisky- 
straight.  Alas !  Bill  Foster  had  passed  in  his  checks,  and 
gone  the  way  of  all  Ten  Milers. 

And  it  was  this  fact  that  brought  these  diligent  delvers 
after  hidden  treasure  from  their  work,  for  Bill  had  not  gone 
in  the  ordinary  way.  At  night  he  was  in  the  full  enjoyment 
of  health  and  a  game  of  poker ;  in  the  morning  they  found 
him  just  outside  the  domicile  of  Jack  Borlan,  with  a  small 
puncture  near  the  heart  to  tell  how  it  was  done.  Such  was 
life  at  Ten  Mile  Gulch. 

Who  made  the  puncture  ? 

Circumstances  pointed  to  Jack  Borlan,  and  they  escorted 
him  down  to  the  settlement.  He  stood  by  the  bar  convers- 
ing with  the  dispenser  of  liquid  lightning.  Two  very  calm- 
looking  Ten  Milers  were  within  easy  reach  of  Mr.  Borlan ; 
two  more  at  the  door,  which  was  left  temptingly  open  ;  two 
more  at  each  window,  and  the  remainder  scattered  about 
the  room  to  suit  themselves. 

Mr.  Bob  Watson  was  the  only  one  calm  enough  to  enjoy 
a  seat,  and  he  was  whittling  away  at  the  pine  bench  with 
such  energy  that  a  stranger  might  have  concluded  that 
whittling  was  his  best  hold.  Not  so,  however ;  he  whittled 
until  he  found  a  nail  with  the  edge  of  his  knife,  and  then 
varied  his  diversion  by  grasping  the  point  of  the  blade 
between  the  thumb  and  first  finger  of  his  right  hand,  and 
throwing  it  at  the  left  eye  of  a  very  flattering  representation 
of  Yankee  Sullivan  which  graced  the  wall. 

By  a  slight  miscalculation  of  distance  and  elevation,  the 
eye  was  unharmed,  but  the  well-developed  nose  was  more 


"WHO   TAKES   ME?   WHO?   WHO?"  145 

effectually  ruined  than  its  original  ever  was  by  the  most 
scientific  pugilist. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  what  shall  we  do  with  the  prisoner  ?" 
asks  Watson. 

" We're  waiting  for  you"  said  a  tall  Ten  Miler,  who  had 
been  a  pleased  witness  of  the  knife  -  throwing  and  its 
results. 

"  Well,  you  need  not,"  retorted  Mr.  Watson,  as  he  made 
a  fling  at  Yankee's  other  eye,  and  with  very  good  success. 
"  You  know  my  sentiments,  gentlemen.  I  was  opposed  to 
bringing  the  prisoner  here.  We  might  have  fixed  up  the 
matter  all  at  one  time,  and  saved  a  heap  of  diggin'." 

"It — might — have — done,"  said  the  tall  Miler,  doubt- 
fully ;  "  but  I  wouldn't  like  to  see  the  two  together.  It 
would  spoil  all  my  enjoyment  of  the  occasion." 

"Bet  yer  ten  to  one  ye  don't  swing  him  !"  cried  Watson, 
springing  to  his  feet  with  sudden  inspiration,  and  mounting 
the  bench  he  had  been  whittling.  "  Twenty  to  one  Jack 
Borlan  don't  choke  this  heat !  Who  takes  me?  who?  who?" 

No  one  seemed  disposed  to  take  him. 

"  Bosh !  you  Ten  Milers  are  all  babies.  Now,  if  this  had 
happened  up  at  Quit  Claim,  Borlan  would  have  had  a  beau- 
tiful tombstone  over  him  long  ago.  What  do  you  say,  Bor- 
lan?" 

The  prisoner,  thus  addressed,  cut  short  some  remark  he 
was  making,  and  turned  to  Watson.  "There  have  been 
cases  where  the  prisoner  had  the  benefit  of  a  trial,  Mr. 
Watson." 

"  Which  is  so,  Mr.  Borlan.  Obliged  to  you  fur  remind- 
ing me.  Let's  have  one,  gentlemen.  I'll  be  prosecuting 
attorney,  if  no  one  objects ;  now,  who'll  defend  the  prisoner 
at  the  bar?" 

"  I'll  make  a  feeble  attempt  that  way,"  was  the  reply 
that  came  from  the  doorway.  All  eyes  turned,  and  recog- 
nized Tom  Ruger. 

"  This  is  betwixt  us  Ten  Milers,"  said  Watson.  "  Borlan 
is  guilty,  and  we're  bound  to  hang  him  before  sundown ;  but 

10 


146  NO   OUTSIDERS   IN   THIS   GAME. 

we  want  to  do  the  fair  thing,  and  give  him  the  benefit  of  a 
trial.  Who  of  you  Ten  Milers  will  defend  him  ?" 

"I  told  you  /  would  defend  Mr.  Borlan,"  said  Tom 
Euger,  as  he  removed  his  silk  hat  and  wiped  his  broad  fore- 
head with  the  finest  of  silk  handkerchiefs. 

"I  tell  you  we  won't  have  any  outsiders  in  this  game/' 
said  Watson. 

"  I  really  dislike  to  contradict  you,  Mr.  Watson," 
remarked  Tom  Euger,  as  he  very  carefully  readjusted  his  hat. 
"  Very  sorry,  Mr.  Watson,  and  I  do  hope  you'll  pardon  me 
when  I  repeat  that  I  will  defend  Mr.  Borlan — with — my— 

life  r 

This  remark  surprised  no  one  more  than  Jack  Borlan. 
He  had  never  spoken  to  Mr.  Euger  a  dozen  times  in  his  life, 
and  he  could  not  account  for  such  disinterestedness.  How- 
ever, there  was  not  much  time  for  conjecture,  for  Mr.  Wat- 
son had  taken  offense. 

"  With  your  death,  Tom  Euger,  if  you  interfere  !"  cried 
Watson,  jumping  down  from  his  elevation. 

It  did  look  that  way ;  but  Mr.  Euger  had  not  strolled 
up  and  down  that  auriferous  coast  without  acquiring  some 
knowledge  of  the  usual  means  of  defense  in  that  sunny 
clime,  as  well  as  some  practice.  It  was  quite  warm  for  a 
moment ;  then  Mr.  Borlan,  believing  it  to  be  his  duty,  as 
client,  to  aid  his  counsel  in  the  defense,  went  in  gladly. 

Still  it  was  quite  warm  ;  also  somewhat  smoky  from  the 
powder  that  had  been  burned;  likewise  noisy.  Not  so 
noisy,  however,  that  Mr.  Borlan  could  not  hear  his  counsel 
say: 

"  Clear  yourself,  Borlan !  My  horses  are  down  at  the 
ford!" 

Mr.  Borlan  followed  the  advice  "of  his  counsel,  and  Mr. 
Euger  followed  Mr.  Borlan.  The  Ten  Milers — some  of  them 
— followed  both  counsel  and  client. 

It  was  neck  and  heels  until  the  horses  were  reached. 
After  that  the  pursuers  were  left  at  a  great  disadvantage. 

"  I'll  have  his  heart !"  ejaculated  Watson.     Which  heart 


THE   KESULT   OF  THE   CHASE.  147 

he  meant  we  have  no  means  of  knowing.  "  Give  me  a 
horse !  quick  !" 

They  brought  a  mule. 

"  Wait  here,  every  man  of  you !"  Watson  shouted  back 
over  the  shaved  tail  of  his  substitute  for  a  horse.  "  I'll 
bring  him  back,  dead  or  alive,  or  my  name  ain't  Watson !" 

And  over  the  way  the  stage  had  stopped,  and  Fanny 
Borlan  had  reached  Ten  Mile  Gulch  at  last 


in. 

A  LITTLE  after  sunrise,  the  next  morning,  Mr.  Tom  Euger 
might  have  been  seen  leisurely  riding  along  the  bridle-path 
between  the  mines  and  the  settlement  of  Ten  Mile  Gulch. 
He  was  headed  toward  the  village,  and  was  nine  and  three- 
quarter  miles  nearer  to  it  than  the  mines.  He  had  found 
another  good  cigar  somewhere,  and  was  humming  the  self- 
same tune  as  on  the  previous  afternoon ;  but  the  riderless 
horse  was  not  with  him. 

As  Mr.  Euger  rode  into  the  only  street  in  the  village,  his 
approach  was  heralded,  and  the  Ten  Milers,  who  were  wait- 
ing for  Watson's  return,  filed  out  of  the  Miners'  Home,  and 
took  stations  in  the  street. 

Mr.  Euger  took  note  of  this  demonstration,  and,  with  a 
very  business-like  air,  examined  the  contents  of  his  holsters. 
He  also  noticed  that  patched  noses  and  heads,  and  canes 
and  crutches,  were  the  predominating  features  in  the  group 
of  Ten  Milers,  with  an  occasional  closed  eye  and  a  bandaged 
hand  to  vary  the  monotony. 

Miss  Fanny  Borlan,  from  her  window  at  the  Ten  Mile 
House,  also  noticed  the  dilapidated  looks  of  the  frequenters 
of  the  Miners'  Home,  and  wondered  if  they  kept  a  hospital 
there.  Then  she  saw  Mr.  Euger,  and  bowed  and  smiled  as 
he  drew  up  at  her  window. 

"So  you  arrived  all  safe,  Miss  Borlan?  How  do  you 
like  the  place  ?" 

"Better   than   the   inhabitants,"  she  answered,  with  a 


143  "YOU  HAD  BETTER  WAIT." 

glance  over  the  way.    "Than  those,  I  mean.    Is  it  a  hos- 
pital?" 

"  For  the  present  I  believe  it  is." 

"  And  will  be  for  some  time  to  come,  if  they  all  stay  till 
they're  cured.  But  have  you  seen  Jack?" 

«  yes — last  evening.  He  was  very  sorry  that  he  could  not 
wait  for  you,  but  it  may  be  as  well,  however.  He  has  gone 
down  to  San  Francisco,  and  he  will  wait  for  you  there.  The 
stage  leaves  here,  in  about  two  hours,  and  I  advise  you  to 
take  passage  in  it,  if  you  are  not  too  much  fatigued." 

"  I'm  not  tired  a  bit,  Mr.  Euger.  I  will  go  back.  Thank 
you  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken." 

"  No  trouble,  Miss  Borlan.  Give  my  respects  to  Jack,  and 
tell  him  I  will  be  down  in  a  week  or  two.  Good-morning." 

"While  talking,  Mr.  Euger  had  about  evenly  divided  his 
glances  between  the  very  beautiful  face  of  Fanny  Borlan 
and  the  somewhat  expressive  countenances  of  the  Ten 
Milers.  Not  that  he  found  anything  to  admire  in  their 
damaged  physiognomies,  but  he  never  wholly  ignored  the 
presence  of  any  one. 

"  Good-morning,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  as  he  rode  up  in 
front  of  them. 

"  Not  to  you,  Tom  Euger,"  spoke  a  tall  Ten  Miler — the 
only  one,  by-the-way,  who  had  come  out  of  the  previous 
day's  trial  unscathed.  "  Not  to  you,  Tom  Euger  !  Where's 
Borlan?" 

"  He's  gone  down  the  coast  on  business,"  said  Euger, 
"  and  may  not  be  back  for  several  months." 

" We'll  not  wait  for  him"  was  the  miner's  reply. 

At  the  same  time  he  drew  a  revolver.  ' 

"You  had  better  wait,"  said  Euger,  also  producing  a 
revolver. 

The  Ten  Miler  paused,  and  looked  around  at  his  com- 
panions. They  did  not  present  a  formidable  array  of  fight- 
ing stock.  In  fact,  they  were  the  sorest-looking  men  that 
Ten  Mile  Gulch  ever  saw ;  and  as  the  unscathed  surveved 
them,  he  seemed  to  think  he  had  better  wait. 


"  YOU  HAD  BETTER  WAIT,"  SAID  RUGER,  ALSO  PRODUCING  A  REVOLVER. 


IN  THE   SHADE   OF   THE  ACACIA-BUSH.  151 

"You'll  wait  for  Mr.  Borlan?"  queried  Euger. 

"  I  reckon  we'd  better,"  answered  the  unscathed. 

"  And  while  you  are  waiting,  you  had  better  take  a  cur- 
sory glance  at  Mr.  Watson,"  suggested  Euger.  "At  the 
present  time  he  is  reposing  in  the  shade  of  an  acacia-bush, 
just  back  of  the  late  lamented  William  Foster's  rural 
habitation.  Good-morning,  gentlemen ;  and  don't  get  impa- 
tient." 

If  Mr.  Euger  had  any  fear  of  treachery,  he  did  not 
exhibit  it,  for  he  never  turned  his  head  as  he  rode  off  toward 
the  valley.  Nor  was  there  any  danger;  for  beneath  his 
suggestions  about  Mr.  Watson  the  unscathed  had  detected 
a  thing  or  two. 

"  I'm  glad  we  waited,"  he  said.  "  I  begin  to  see  a  thing 
or  two.  Them  as  is  able  will  follow  me  up  the  Gulch." 

About  half  a  score  went  with  him.  Mr.  Watson  was  still 
enjoying  the  shade  of  the  acacia-bush.  In  fact,  he  couldn't 
get  away,  which  Mr.  Euger  well  knew. 

"It's  all  up  with  me,  Gulchers,"  whispered  Watson. 
"  Euger  was  too  many  for  me,  and  I  ought  to  have  known 
it.  You'll  find  Bill  Foster's  dust  in  a  flour-sack,  in  my 
cabin.  My  respects  to  Borlan  when  you  see  him,  and  tell 
him  I  beg  his  pardon  for  discommoding  him.  Give  what 
dust  is  honestly  mine  to  him.  It's  all  I  can  do  now.  Good- 
by,  boys.  I'm  jest  played  out ;  but  take  my  advice  and 
never  buck  against  Tom  Euger.  He's  too  many  for  any 
dozen  chaps  on  the  coast.  I  knew  'twas  all  up  with  me  the 
minute  Tom  came  in,  for  he  can  look  right  through  a  feller's 
heart.  But  never  mind !  It's  too  late  to  help  it  now.  I 
staked  everything  I  had  against  Foster's  pile,  and  I'm  beat, 
beat,  beat !" 

.These  were  the  last  words  Mr.  Bob  Watson  ever  spoke, 
as  many  a  surviving  Ten  Miler  will  tell  you,  and  they  buried 
him  in  the  spot  where  he  died,  without  any  beautiful  stone 
to  mark  the  place. 


152         "WE  SHALL  MISS  YOU  VERY  MUCH." 


IV. 

Miss  FANNY  BORLAN  found  Jack  awaiting  her   at  San 
Francisco. 

"  "What  made  you  run  away  ?" 

"Why,  Fanny,  didn't  Tom  tell  you  about  it?"  queried 
Jack. 

"  Tom  ?     Oh,  you  mean  Mr.  Kuger.     He  only  sent  me 
down  here." 

"  Just  like  him,  Fan  ;  very  few  words  he  ever  wastes.    Ah, 
sister,  we  don't  have  such  men  out  East." 

"  So  the  stage-driver  told  me,"  said  Fanny,  demurely. 
"  There,  Fan,  you're  poking  fun  now.     Wait  till  I  get 
through.     Only  for  Tom,  you  would  have  found  me  at  Ten 
Mile  Gulch,  hanging  by  the  neck  to  the  limb  of  that  tree 
just  in  front  of  the  Home." 
"Hanging,  Jack?" 

"Hanging,  Fan — lynched  for  a  murder  I  never  com- 
mitted. Tom  came  along  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  and 

Well,  Fan,  perhaps  you  saw  some  of  the  Ten  Milers  before 
you  came  away?" 

"Yes,  Jack ;  and  there  was  only  one  whole  nose  in  the 
lot,  and  I  do  believe  that  was  out  of  joint.  But,  oh,  Jack ! 
if  they  had  taken  your  life  !" 

"  Never  mind  now,  sis.  Tom  was  too  many  for  'em  ;  and 
here  I  am  safe.  We'll  wait  here  till  Tom  comes  down,  for 
I've  got  one  of  his  horses,  which  he  thinks  more  of  than  he 
does  of  himself  ;  then  for  home,  sis." 

Mr.  Tom  Euger  went  down,  as  he  said  he  would,  and 
remained  with  them  several  days.  On  the  morning  that 
they  were  to  sail,  Fanny  said  to  Tom  : 

"  I  wish  you  were  going  with  us,  Mr.  Euger.  We  shall 
miss  you  very  much.  Won't  you  go  ?" 

Mr.  Buger  was  talking  with  Jack  at  the  time,  but  he 
heard  Fanny — he  always  heard  what  she  said. 


FOR  BETTER  OR  WORSE.  153 

He  did  not  reply  at  once,  however,  but  said  to  Jack,  in  a 
low  tone  : 

"  Jack,  you  know  what  I  have  been — can  I  ever  become 
worthy  of  her  ?" 

And  Jack  answered,  promptly  : 

"  God  bless  you,  Tom,  you  are  worthy  now !" 

"  Thank  you,  Jack — if  you  believe  !" 

Then  he  went  over  to  Fanny. 

"  I  will  go,"  was  all  he  said. 

It  was  a  great  wonder  to  both  Jack  and  his  sister  how 
Tom  could  have  got  ready  for  the  journey  on  so  short  a 
notice  ;  but  one  day,  more  than  a  year  afterward,  Tom  said 
to  Jack : 

"  Old  friend,  I'm  not  what  I  was,  I  hope.  Ever  since  I 
first  saw  Fanny  on  the  road  to  Ten  Mile  Gulch,  I  have  tried 
to  live  differently.  I  hope  I  am  better,  for  she  said  last 
night  that  she  would  take  me  for  better  or  worse." 

A.nd  Jack  wondered  no  more. 


CAPTAIN   SAM'S  CHANGE. 

H  TTTELL,  there's  nothin'  to  do,  but  to  hev  faith,  an'  keep 

V\     a-tryin'." 

The  speaker  was  old  Mrs.  Simmons,  boarding-house 
keeper,  and  resident  of  a  certain  town  on  the  Ohio  River. 
The  prime  cause  of  her  remark  was  Captain  Sam  Toppie,  of 
the  steamboat  Queen  Ann. 

Captain  Sam  had  stopped  with  Mrs.  Simmons  every  time 
the  Queen  Ann  laid  up  for  repairs,  and  he  was  so  genial, 
frank  and  manly,  that  he  had  found  a  warm  spot  in  the 
good  old  lady's  heart. 

But  one  thing  marred  the  otherwise  perfect  happiness  of 
Mrs.  Simmons  when  in  Captain  Sam's  society,  and  that  was 
what  she  styled  his  "  lost  condition."  For  Mrs.  Simmons 
was  a  consistent,  conscientious  Methodist,  while  Captain 
Sam  was — well,  he  was  a  Western  steamboat  captain. 

This  useful  class  of  gentlemen  are  in  high  repute  among 
shippers  and  barkeepers,  and  receive  many  handsome  com- 
pliments from  the  daily  papers  along  the  line  of  the  Western 
rivers ;  but,  somehow,  the  religious  Press  is  entirely  silent 
about  them,  nor  have  we  ever  seen  of  any  special  mission 
having  been  sent  to  them. 

Captain  Sam  was  a  good  specimen  of  the  fraternity — 
good-looking,  good-natured,  quick-witted,  prompt,  and 
faithful,  as  well  as  quick-tempered,  profane,  and  perpetually 
thirsty.  To  carry  a  full  load,  put  his  boat  through  in  time, 
and  always  drink  up  to  his  peg,  were  his  cardinal  principles, 
and  he  faithfully  lived  up  to  them. 

154 


155 

Of  the  fair  sex  he  was  a  most  devoted  admirer,  and  if  he 
had  not  possessed  a  great  deal  of  modesty,  for  a  steamboat 
captain,  he  could  have  named  two  or  three  score  of  young 
women  who  thought  almost  as  much  of  him  as  the  worthy 
boarding-house  keeper  did. 

Good  Mrs.  Simmons  had,  to  use  her  own  language, 
"  kerried  him  before  the  Lord,  and  wrastled  for  him  ;"  but  it 
was  very  evident,  from  Sam's  walk  and  conversation,  that  his 
case  had  not  yet  been  adjudicated  according  to  Mrs.  Sim- 
mons's  liking. 

He  still  had  occasional  difficulties  with  the  hat-stand  and 
stairway  after  coming  home  late  at  night ;  his  breath,  though 
generally  odorous,  seemed  to  grieve  Mrs.  Simmons's  olfac- 
tories, and  his  conversation,  as  heard  through  his  open  door 
in  Summer,  was  thickly  seasoned  with  expressions  far  more 
Scriptural  than  reverential. 

One  Christmas,  the  old  lady  presented  to  the  captain  a 
handsome  Bible,  with  his  name  stamped  in  large  gilt  letters 
on  the  cover.  He  was  so  delighted  and  so  proud  of  his 
present,  that  he  straightway  wrapped  it  in  many  folds  of 
paper  to  prevent  its  being  soiled,  and  then  stowed  it  neatly 
away  in  the  Queen  Ann's  safe,  for  secure  keeping. 

When  he  told  Mrs.  Simmons  what  he  had  done,  she 
sighed  deeply ;  but  fully  alive  to  the  importance  of  the  case, 
promised  him  a  common  one,  not  too  good  to  read  daily.  ' 

"Daily!  Bless  you,  Mrs.  Simmons!  Why,  I  hardly 
have  time  to  look  in  the  paper,  and  see  who's  gone  up,  and 
who's  gone  down,  and  who's  been  beat." 

"  But  your  better  part,  cap'en  ?"  pleaded  the  old  lady. 

"  I — I  don't  know,  my  good  woman — hard  to  find  it,  I 
guess — the  hull  lot  averages  purty  low." 

"But,  cap'en,"  she  continued,  "  don't  you  feel  your  need 
of  a  change  ?" 

"  Not  from  the  Queen  Ann,  ma'am — she  only  needs  big- 
ger engines " 

"  Change  of  heart,  I  mean,  cap'en,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Sim- 
mons. "  Don't  you  feel  your  need  of  religion  ?" 


156  TOO   GOOD   FOB   SATAN. 

"  Ha !  ha !"  roared  Captain  Sam  ;  "  the  idea  of  a  steam- 
boat captain  with  religion !  Why,  bless  your  dear,  innocent, 
old  soul,  the  fust  time  he  wanted  to  wood  up  in  a  hurry,  his 
religion  would  git,  quicker'n  lightnin'.  The  only  steamboat- 
man  I  ever  knowed  in  the  meetin' -house  line  went  up 
for  seven  year  for  settin'  fire  to  his  own  boat  to  git  the  in- 
surance." 

Mrs.  Simmons  could  not  recall  at  the  moment  the  remem- 
brance of  any  pious  captain,  so  she  ceased  laboring  with 
Captain  Sam.  But  when  he  went  out,  she  placed  on  his 
table  a  tract,  entitled  "  The  Furnace  Seven  Times  Heated," 
which  tract  the  captain  considerately  handed  to  his  engi- 
neer, supposing  it  to  be  a  circular  on  intensified  caloric. 

Year  after  year  the  captain  laid  up  for  repairs,  and  put 
up  with  Mrs.  Simmons.  Year  after  year  he  was  jolly,  genial, 
chilvalrous,  generous,  but — not  what  good  Mrs.  Simmons 
earnestly  wanted  him  to  be. 

He  would  buy  tickets  to  all  the  church  fairs,  give  free 
passages  to  all  preachers  recommended  by  Mrs.  Simmons, 
and  on  Sunday  morning  he  would  respectfully  escort  the 
old  lady  as  far  as  the  church-door. 

On  one  occasion,  when  Mrs.  Simmons's  church  building 
was  struck  by  lightning,  a  deacon  dropped  in  with  a  sub- 
scription-paper, while  the  captain  was  in.  The  generous 
steamboatman  immediately  put  himself  down  for  fifty  dol- 
lars ;  and  although  he  improved  the  occasion  to  condemn 
severely  the  meanness  of  certain  holy  people,  and  though 
his  language  seemed  to  create  an  atmosphere  which  must  cer- 
tainly melt  the  money — for  those  were  specie  days — Mrs. 
Simmons  declared  to  herself  that  "  he  couldn't  be  fur  from 
'  the  kingdom  when  his  heart  was  so  little  set  on  Mammon  as 
that." 

"  He's  too  good  for  Satan — the  Lord  must  hev  him," 
thought  the  good  old  lady. 

Once  again  the  Queen  Ann  needed  repairing,  and  again 
the  captain  found  himself  at  his  old  boarding-place. 

Good  Mrs.  Simmons  surveyed  him  tenderly  through  her 


"p'n'APS  YOU  KEN  USE  IT  FUR  COOKINY*       157 

glasses,  and  instantly  saw  there  had  something  unusual 
happened.  Could  it  be — oh !  if  it  only  could  be — that  he 
had  put  off  the  old  man,  which  is  sin !  She  longed  to  ask 
him,  yet,  with  a  woman's  natural  delicacy,  she  determined  to 
find  out  without  direct  questioning. 

"  Good  season,  cap'en  ?"  she  inquired. 

"A  No.  1,  ma'am — positively  first-class,"  replied  the 
captain. 

"  Hed  good  health — no  ager  ?"  she  continued. 

"Never  was  better,  my  dear  woman— healthy  right  to 
the  top  notch,"  he  answered. 

*'  It  must  be,"  said  good  Mrs.  Simmons,  to  herself — "  it 
can't  be  nothin'  else.  Bless  the  Lord !" 

This  pious  sentiment  she  followed  up  by  a  hymn,  whose 
irregularities  of  time  and  tune  were  fully  atoned  for  by  the 
spirit  with  which  she  sung.  A  knock  at  the  door  inter- 
rupted her. 

"  Come  in ! "  she  cried. 

Captain  Sam  entered,  and  laid  a  good-sized,  flat  flask  on 
the  table,  saying  : 

"  I've  just  been  unpackin',  an'  I  found  this  ;  p'r'aps  you 
ken  use  it  fur  cookin'.  It's  no  use  to  me  ;  I've  sworn  off 
drinkin'." 

And  before  the  astonished  lady  could  say  a  word,  he  was 
gone. 

But  the  good  soul  could  endure  the  suspense  no  longer. 
She  hurried  to  the  door,  and  cried  : 

"  Cap'en !" 

"That's  me,"  answered  Captain  Sam,  returning. 

"  Cap'en,"  said  Mrs.  Simmons,  in  a  voice  in  which 
solemnity  aad  excitement  struggled  for  the  mastery,  "  hez 
the  Lord  sent  His  angel  unto  you  ?" 

"  He  hez,"  replied  the  captain,  in  a  very  decided  tone, 
and  abruptly  turned,  and  hurried  to  his  own  room. 

"  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul !"  almost  shouted  Mrs.  Sim- 
mons, in  her  ecstacy.  "  We  musn't  worry  them  that's  weak 
in  the  faith,  but  I  sha'n't  be  satisfied  till  I  hear  him  tell  his 


158  LIVING  IN  A  STATE   OF  BLISS. 

experience.  Oh,  what  a  blessed  thing  to  relate  at  prayer- 
meetin'  to-night !" 

There  was,  indeed,  a  rattling  of  dry  bones  at  the  prayer- 
meeting  that  night,  for  it  was  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
the  church  that  the  conversion  of  a  steamboat  captain  had 
been  reported. 

On  returning  home  from  the  meeting,  additional  proof 
awaited  the  happy  old  saint.  The  captain  was  in  his  room 
— in  his  room  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening!  She  had 
known  the  captain  for  years,  but  he  had  never  before  got  in 
so  early.  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  it,  though — there 
he  was,  softly  whistling. 

"  I'd  rather  hear  him  whistlin'  Windham  or  Boylston," 
thought  Mrs.  Simmons ;  "  that  tune  don't  fit  any  hymn  / 
know.  P'r'aps,  though,  they  sing  it  in  some  of  them 
churches  up  to  Cincinnaty,"  she  charitably  continued. 

"  Cap'en,"  said  she,  at  breakfast,  next  morning,  when  the 
other  guests  had  departed,  "  is  your  mind  at  peace  ?" 

"  Peace  ?"  echoed  the  captain — "  peaceful  as  the  Ohio 
at  low  water." 

The  captain's  simile  was  not  so  Scriptural  as  the  old  lady 
could  have  desired,  but  she  remembered  that  he  was  but  a 
young  convert,  and  that  holy  conversation  was  a  matter  of 
gradual  attainment.  So,  simply  and  piously  making  the 
best  of  it,  she  fervently  exclaimed  : 

"  That  it  may  ever  be  thus  is  my  earnest  prayer,  cap'en." 

"Amen  to  that,"  said  Captain  Sam,  very  heartily,  upset- 
ting the  chair  in  his  haste  to  get  out  of  the  room. 

For  several  days  Mrs.  Simmons  lived  in  a  state  of  bliss 
unknown  to  boarding-house  keepers,  whose  joys  come  only 
from  a  sense  of  provisions  purchased  cheaply  and  paying 
boarders  secured. 

From  the  kitchen,  the  dining-room,  or  wherever  she  was, 
issued  sounds  of  praise  and  devotion,  intoned  to  some 
familiar  church  melody.  Scrubbing  the  kitchen -floor 
dampened  not  her  ardor,  and  even  the  fateful  washing-day 
produced  no  visible  effects  on  her  spirits.  From  over  the 


INSURED   AGAINST  FLAMES  ETERNAL.  159 

bread-pan  she  sent  exultant  strains  to  echo  through  the 
house,  and  her  fists  vigorously  marked  time  in  the  yielding 
dough.  From  the  third-story  window,  as  she  hung  out  the 
bed-linen  to  air,  her  holy  notes  fell  on  the  ears  of  passing 
teamsters,  and  caused  them  to  cast  wondering  glances  up- 
ward. What  was  the  heat  of  the  kitchen-stove  to  her,  now 
that  Captain  Sam  was  insured  against  flames  eternal  ?  "What, 
now,  was  even  money,  since  Captain  Sam  had  laid  up  his 
treasures  above? 

And  the  captain's  presence,  which  had  alw.ays  comforted 
her,  was  now  a  perpetual  blessing.  Always  pleasant,  kind, 
and  courteous,  as  of  old,  but  oh,  so  different ! 

All  the  coal-scuttles  and  water-pails  in  the  house  might 
occupy  the  stairway  at  night,  but  the  captain  could  safely 
thread  his  way  among  them. 

No  longer  did  she  hurry  past  his  door,  with  her  fingers 
ready,  at  the  slightest  alarm,  to  act  as  compressers  to  her 
ears ;  no,  the  captain's  language,  though  not  exactly  religious, 
was  eminently  proper. 

He  was  at  home  so  much  evenings,  that  his  lamp  con- 
sumed more  oil  in  a  week  than  it  used  to  in  months ;  but 
the  old  lady  cheerfully  refilled  it,  and  complained  not  that 
the  captain's  goodness  was  costly. 

The  captain  brought  home  a  book  or  two  daily,  and  left 
them  in  his  room,  seeing  which,  his  self-denying  hostess  car- 
ried up  the  two  flights  of  stairs  her  own  copies  of  "  Clarke's 
Commentaries,"  "  The  Saints'  Kest,"  "  Joy's  Exercises,"  and 
"  Morning  and  Night  "Watches,"  and  arranged  them  neatly 
on  his  table. 

Finally,  after  a  few  days,  Captain  Sam  seemed  to  have 
something  to  say — something  which  his  usual  power  of 
speech  was  scarcely  equal  to.  Mrs.  Simmons  gave  him 
every  opportunity. 

At  last,  when  he  ejaculated,  "  Mrs.  Simmons,"  just  as  she 
was  carrying  her  beloved  glass  preserve-dish  to  its  place  in 
the  parlor-closet,  she  was  so  excited  that  she  dropped  the 
brittle  treasure,  and  uttered  not  a  moan  over  the  fragments. 


160  I'VE   BEEN  THROUGH  IT  ALL. 

"  Mrs.  Simmons,  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  lead  an  en- 
tirely new  life,"  said  the  captain,  gravely. 

"  It's  what  I've  been  hopin'  fur  years  an'  years,  cap'en," 
responded  the  happy  old  lady. 

14  Hev  you,  though  ?  God  bless  your  motherly  old  soul," 
said  the  captain,  warmly.  "Well,  I've  turned  over  anew 
leaf,  and  it  don't  git  turned  back  again." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Mrs.  Simmons,  with  a  happy  tear 
under  each  spectacle-glass.  "  Fight  the  good  fight,  cap'en." 

"  Just  my  little  game,"  continued  the  captain.  "  'Tain't 
ev'ry  day  that  a  man  ken  find  an  angel  willin'  to  look  out 
fur  him,  Mrs.  Simmons." 

"  An  angel !  Oh,  cap'en,  how  richly  blessed  you  hev 
been  !  "  swbbed  Mrs.  Simmons.  "  Many's  the  one  that  hez 
prayed  all  their  lives  long  for  the  comin'  of  a  good  sperrit 
to  guide  'em." 

"  Well,  I've  got  one,  sure  pop,"  continued  Captain  Sam  ; 
"  and  happy  ain't  any  kind  of  a  name  fur  what  I  be  all  the 
time  now." 

"  Bless  you !"  said  the  good  woman,  wringing  the  cap- 
tain's hand  fervidly.  "  But  you'll  hev  times  of  trouble  an' 
doubt,  off  an'  on." 

"Is  that  so?"  asked  the  captain,  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Mrs.  Simmons  ;  "  bat  don't  be  afeard ; 
ev'ry  thing'll  come  right  in  the  end.  I  know — I've  been 
through  it  all." 

"  That's  so,"  said  the  captain,  "  you  hev  that.  Well,  now, 
would  you  mind  interdoosin'  me  to  your  minister  ?" 

"Mind !"  said  the  good  old  lady.  "I've  been  a-dyin'  to 
do  it  ever  since  you  come.  I've  told  him  about  it,  and  he's 
ez  glad  fur  you  ez  I  am." 

"  Oh!"  said  the  captain,  looking  a  little  confused,  "you 
suspected  it,  did  you  ?  " 

"From  the  very  minute  you  fust  kem,"  replied  Mrs. 
Simmons  ;  "  I  know  the  signs." 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  "  might  ez  well  see  him  fust  as 
last  then,  I  reckon." 


"HOW  SOON  CAN  YOU  DO  THE  BUSINESS?"  161 

"  I'll  get  ready  right  away,"  said  Mrs.  Simmons.  And 
away  she  hurried,  leaving  the  captain  greatly  puzzled. 

The  old  lady  put  on  her  newest  bombazine  dress — all 
this  happened  ten  years  ago,  ladies — and  a  hat  to  match. 

Never  before  had  these  articles  of  dress  been  seen  by  the 
irreligious  light  of  a  weekday ;  the  day  seemed  fully  as  holy 
as  an  ordinary  Sabbath. 

They  attracted  considerable  attention,  in  their  good 
clothes  and  solemn  faces,  and  finally,  as  they  stood  on  the 
parson's  doorstep,  two  of  the  captain's  own  deckhands  saw 
him,  and  straightway  drank  themselves  into  a  state  of  beastly 
intoxication  in  trying  to  decide  what  the  captain  could  want 
of  a  preacher. 

The  minister  entered,  cordially  greeted  Mrs.  Simmons, 
and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  forming  the  captain's  acquaint- 
ance. 

"  Parson,"  said  the  captain,  in  trembling  accents — "  don't 
go  away,  Mrs.  Simmons — parson,  my  good  friend  here  tells 
me  you  know  all  about  my  case ;  now  the  question  is,  how 
soon  can  you  do  the  business  ?" 

The  reverend  gentleman  shivered  a  little  at  hearing  the 
word  "  business  "  applied  to  holy  things,  but  replied,  in  ex- 
cellent temper : 

"  The  next  opportunity  will  occur  on  the  first  Sabbath 
of  the  coming  month,  and  I  shall  be  truly  delighted  to 
gather  into  our  fold  one  whose  many  worthy  qualities  have 
been  made  known  to  us  by  our  dearly  beloved  sister  Sim- 
mons. And  let  me  further  remind  you  that  there  is  joy  in 
heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  and  that  there- 
fore  " 

"  Just  so,  parson,"  interrupted  the  captain,  wincing  a 
little,  and  looking  exceedingly  puzzled — "  just  so  ;  but  ain't 
thar  no  day  but  Sunday  for  a  man  to  be  married " 

"  Married  !"  ejaculated  the  minister,  looking  inquiringly 
at  Mrs.  Simmons. 

"  Married  !"  screamed  the  old  lady,  staring  wildly  at  the 
captain — "married !  Oh,  what  shall  I  do ?  I  thought  you'd 

11 


162  A  LOVELY  EXPERIENCE   COMPLETELY  "SPILED" 

experienced  a  change !  And  I  've  told  everybody  about 
it!" 

The  captain  burst  into  a  laugh,  which  made  the  minis- 
ter's chandeliers  rattle,  and  the  holy  man  himself,  seeing 
through  the  mistake,  heartily  joined  the  captain. 

But  poor  Mrs.  Simmons  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears. 

"  My  dear,  good  old  friend,"  said  the  captain,  tenderly 
putting  his  arm  about  her,  "  I'm  very  sorry  you  have  been 
disappointed ;  but  one  thing  at  a  time,  you  know.  When 
you  see  my  angel,  you'll  think  I'm  in  a  fair  way  to  be  an 
angel  myself  some  day,  I  guess.  Annie's  her  name — Annie 
May — an'  I've  named  the  boat  after  her.  Don't  take  on  so, 
an'  I'll  show  you  the  old  boat,  new  painted,  an'  the  name 
innie  May  stuck  on  wherever  there's  a  chance." 

But  the  good  old  woman  only  wrung  her  hands,  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Thar's  a  lovely  experience  completely  spiled — com- 
pletely spiled !" 

At  length  she  was  quieted  and  escorted  home,  and  a  few 
days  afterward  appeared,  in  smiles  and  the  new  bombazine, 
at  the  captain's  wedding. 

The  bride,  a  motherless  girl,  speedily  adopted  Mrs.  Sim- 
mons as  mother,  and  made  many  happy  hours  for  the  old 
lady ;  but  that  venerable  and  pious  person  is  frequently 
heard  to  say  to  herself,  in  periods  of  thoughtfulness : 

"A  lovely  experience  completely  spiled  1" 


163 


MISS  FEWNE'S  LAST  CONQUEST. 

HOW  many  conquests  Mabel  Fewne  had  made  since  she 
had  entered  society  no  one  was  able  to  tell.  Per- 
haps the  conqueror  herself  kept  some  record  of  the  havoc 
she  had  worked,  but  if  she  did,  no  one  but  herself  ever  saw 
it.  Even  such  of  her  rivals  as  were  envious  admitted  that 
Miss  Fewne's  victims  could  be  counted  by  dozens,  while  the 
men  who  came  under  the  influence  of  that  charming  young 
lady  were  wont  to  compute  their  fellow-sufferers  by  the 
hundred.  It  mattered  not  where  Miss  Fewne  spent  her 
time :  whether  she  enjoyed  the  season  in  New  York  or 
Washington,  Baltimore  or  Boston,  she  found  that  climatic 
surroundings  did  not  in  the  least  change  the  conduct  of  men 
toward  her.  In  what  her  attractions  especially  consisted, 
her  critics  and  admirers  were  not  all  agreed.  Palette,  the 
artist,  who  was  among  her  earliest  victims,  said  she  was  the 
embodiment  of  all  ideal  harmonies ;  while  old  Coupon,  who 
at  sixty  offered  her  himself  and  his  property,  declared  in 
confidence  to  another  unfortunate  that  what  took  him  was 
her  solid  sense.  At  least  one  young  man,  who  thought  him- 
self a  poet,  fell  in  love  with  her  for  what  he  called  the  golden 
foam  of  her  hair ;  a  theological  student  went  into  pious 
ecstasy  (and  subsequent  dejection)  over  the  spiritual  light 
of  her  eyes.  The  habitual  pose  of  her  pretty  fingers 
accounted  for  the  awkward  attentions  of  at  least  a  score  of 
young  men,  and  the  piquancy  of  her  manner  attracted,  to 
their  certain  detriment,  all  the  professional  beaus  who  met 
her.  And  yet,  a  clear-headed  literary  Bostonian  declared 

165 


166  LIFE   AT   SMITHTON. 

that  she  was  better  read  than  some  of  his  distinguished 
confreres  ;  while  a  member  of  Congress  excused  himself  f9r 
monopolizing  her  for  an  entire  half-hour,  at  an  evening  party, 
by  saying  that  Miss  Fewne  talked  politics  so  sensibly,  that 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had  learned  how  much  he 
himself  knew.  As  for  the  ladies,  some  said  any  one  could 
get  as  much  admiration  as  Mabel  Fewne  if  they  could  dress 
as  expensively ;  others  said  she  was  so  skillful  a  flirt  that 
no  man  could  see  through  her  wily  ways ;  two  or  three 
inclined  to  the  theory  of  personal  magnetism  ;  while  a  few 
brave  women  said  that  Mabel  was  so  pretty  and  tasteful, 
and  modest  and  sensible  and  sweet,  that  men  would  be 
idiots  if  they  didn't  fall  in  love  with  her  at  sight. 

But  one  season  came  in  which  those  who  envied  and 
feared  Mabel  were  left  in  peace,  for  that  young  lady  deter- 
mined to  spend  the  Winter  with  her  sister,  who  was  the  wife 
of  a  military  officer  stationed  at  Smithton,  in  the  Far  West. 
Smithton  was  a  small  town,  but  a  pleasant  one  ;  it  had  a 
railroad  and  mines ;  a  government  land  office  was  estab- 
lished there,  as  was  the  State  Government  also;  trading 
was  incessant,  money  was  plenty,  so  men  of  wit  and  culture 
came  there  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  almighty  dollar ;  and 
as  there  were  nearly  two-score  of  refined  ladies  in  the  town, 
society  was  delightful  to  the  fullest  extent  of  its  existence. 
And  Mabel  Fewne  enjoyed  it  intensely ;  the  change  of  air 
and  of  scene  gave  stimulus  to  her  spirits  and  new  grace  to  her 
form  and  features,  so  that  she  soon  had  at  her  feet  all  the 
unmarried  men  in  Smithton,  while  many  sober  Benedicts 
admired  as  much  as  they  could  safely  do  without  transfer- 
ring their  allegiance. 

Smithton  was  not  inhabited  exclusively  by  people  of 
energy  and  culture.  New  settlements,  like  all  other  things 
new,  powerfully  attract  incapables,  and  Smithton  was  no 
excuse  to  the  rule,  In  one  portion  of  it,  yclept  "  the  End," 
were  gathered  many  characters  more  odd  than  interesting. 
Their  local  habitations  seemed  to  be  the  liquor-shops  which 
fairly  filled  that  portion  of  the  town.  About  the  doors  of  • 


PECULIARITIES   OF  THE  " ENDER S"  167 

these  shops  the  "  Enders  "  were  most  frequently  seen.     If 
one  of  them  chanced  to  stray  into  the  business  street  of  the 
town,  he  seemed  as  greatly  confused  and  troubled  as  a  lost 
boy.     In   his   own   quarter,  however,  and  among  his  own 
kind,  the  Ender  displayed  a  composure  which  was  simply 
superb.     No  one  could  pass  through  the  End  by  daylight 
without  seeing   many  of   the   inhabitants   thereof   leaning 
against  fences,  trees,  buildings,  and  such  other  objects  as 
could  sustain  without  assistance  the  weight  of  the  human 
frame.     From  these  points  of   support  the  Enders  would 
contemplate  whatever  was  transpiring  about  them,  with  that 
immobility  of  countenance  which  characterizes  the  finished 
tourist  and  the  North  American  Indian.     There  were  occa- 
sions when  these  self-possessed  beings  assumed  erect  posi- 
tions  and  manifested   ordinary   human   interest.      One   of 
these  was  the  breaking  out  of  a  fight  between  either  men 
or  animals ;    another  was  the  passing  of  a  lady  of  either 
handsome  face  or  showy  dress.     So  it  happened  that,  when 
pretty,   well-dressed  Mabel  Fewne  was    enjoying   a  drive 
with  one  of  her  admirers,  there  was  quite  a  stir  among  such 
Enders  as  chanced  to  see  her.     The  venders  of  the  bever- 
ages  for  which   the   Enders   spent  most   of  their   money 
noticed  that,  upon  that  particular  afternoon,  an  unusual  pro- 
portion of  their  customers  stood  at  the  bar  with  no  assist- 
ance from  the  bar  itself,  that  some  spirit  was  manifest  in 
their  walk  and   conversation,  and  yet  they  were  less  than 
usual  inclined  to  be  quarrelsome.     So  great  was  the  excite- 
ment caused  by  Miss  Fewne's  appearance,  that  one  Ender 
was  heard  to  ask  another  who  she  was — an  exhibition  of 
curiosity  very  unusual  in  that  part  of  the  town.     Even  more  : 
One  member  of  that  apparently  hopeless  gang  was  known 
to  wash  his  face  and  hands,  purchase  a  suit  of  cheap — but 
new  and  clean — clothing,  and  take  an  eastern-bound  train, 
presumably  to   appear  among  respectable  people  he  had 
known  during  some  earlier  period  of  his  existence. 

On  the  evening  of  the  next  day  a  delightful  little  party 
was   enjoyed  by  the   well-to-do   inhabitants   of  Smithton. 


168  TWO  SOCIAL  GATHERINGS. 

New  as  was  the  town,  the  parlors  of  Mrs.  General  Wader 
(her  husband  was  something  for  the  railway  company)  were 
handsomely  furnished,  the  ladies  were  elaborately  dressed, 
the  gentlemen  lacked  not  one  of  the  funereal  garments  which 
men  elsewhere  wear  to  evening  parties,  and  stupid  people 
were  noticeably  rarer  than,  in  similar  social  gatherings,  in 
older  communities.  Mabel  Fewne  was  there,  and  as  human 
nature  is  the  same  at  Smithton  as  in  the  East,  she  was  the 
belle  of  the  evening.  She  entered  the  room  on  the  arm  of 
her  brother-in-law,  and  that  warrior's  height,  breadth, 
bronzed  countenance  and  severe  uniform,  made  all  the  more 
striking  the  figure  which,  clad  apparently  in  a  pale  blue 
cloud,  edged  with  silver  and  crowned  with  gold,  floated 
beside  him.  Men  crowded  about  her  at  once,  and  the  other 
ladies  present  had  almost  undisturbed  opportunity  in  which 
to  converse  with  each  other. 

At  the  End  there  was  likewise  a  social  gathering.  The 
place  was  Drake's  saloon,  and  the  guests  were  self-invited. 
Their  toilets,  though  unusual,  scarcely  require  description, 
and  a  list  of  their  diversions  would  not  interest  people  of 
taste.  Refreshments  were  as  plentiful  as  at  Mrs.  Wader's, 
and,  after  the  manner  of  refreshments  everywhere,  they 
caused  a  general  unbending  of  spirits.  Not  all  the  effects 
were  pleasing  to  contemplate.  One  of  them  was  a  pistol- 
shot,  which,  missing  the  man  for  whom  it  was  intended,  struck 
a  person  called  Baggs,  and  remarkable  only  for  general 
worthlessness.  Baggs  had  a  physical  system  of  the  con- 
ventional type,  however,  and  the  bullet  caused  some  disar- 
rangement so  radical  in  its  nature,  that  Baggs  was  soon 
stretched  upon  the  floor  of  the  saloon,  with  a  face  much 
whiter  than  he  usually  wore.  The  barkeeper  poured  out  a 
glass  of  brandy,  and  passed  it  over  the  bar,  but  the  wounded 
man  declined  it ;  he  also  rejected  a  box  of  pills  which  was 
proffered.  An  Ender,  who  claimed  to  have  been  a  phy- 
sician, stooped  over  the  victim,  felt  his  pulse,  and  remarked : 

"Baggs,  you're  a  goner." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Baggs  ;  "  and  I  want  to  be  prayed  for." 


"NOT  THE  EIGHT  MAN."  169 

The  barkeeper  looked  puzzled.  He  was  a  public-spirited 
man,  whose  heart  and  pocket  were  open  to  people  in  real 
trouble,  but  for  prayers  he  had  never  been  asked  before, 
and,  was  entirely  destitute  of  them.  He  felt  relieved  when 
one  of  his  customers — a  leaden-visaged  man,  with  bulbous 
nose  and  a  bad  temper — advanced  toward  the  wounded 
man,  raised  one  hand,  threw  his  head  back  a  trine,  and 
exclaimed : 

"  Once  in  grace,  always  in  grace.  I've  been  there,  I  know. 
Let  us  pray." 

The  victim  waived  his  hand  impatiently,  and  faintly 
•exclaimed : 

"  You  won't  do ;  somebody  that's  better  acquainted  with 
God  than  you  are  must  do  it." 

"But,  Baggs,"  reasoned  the  barkeeper,  "perhaps  he's 
been  a  preacher — you'd  better  not  throw  away  a  chance." 

"Don't  care  if  he  has,"  whispered  Baggs ;  "  he  don't  look 
like  any  of  the  prayin'  people  mother  used  to  know." 

The  would-be  petitioner  took  his  rebuff  considerably  to 
heart,  and  began,  in  a  low  and  rapid  voice,  an  argument  with 
himself  upon  the  duration  of  the  state  of  grace.  The  End- 
ers  listened  but  indifferently,  however  ;  the  dying  man  was 
more  interesting  to  them  than  living  questions,  for  he  had 
no  capacity  for  annoyance.  The  barkeeper  scratched  his 
liead  and  pinched  his  brow,  but,  gaining  no  idea  thereby, 
he  asked : 

"  Do  you  know  the  right  man,  Baggs  ?" 

"  Not  here,  I  don't,"  gasped  the  sufferer  ;  "  not  the  right 
man." 

The  emphasis  on  the  last  word  was  not  unheeded  by  the 
bystanders  ;  they  looked  at  each  other  with  as  much  aston- 
ishment as  Enders  were  capable  of  displaying,  and  thrust 
their  hands  deep  into  the  pockets  of  their  pantaloons,  in 
token  of  their  inability  to  handle  the  case.  Baggs  spoke 
again. 

"I  wish  mother  was  here!"  he  said.  She'd  know  just 
what  to  say  and  how  to  say  it." 


170  "AN  ENDER"  ASKS  TO  SEE  MISS  FEWNE. 

"She's  too  far  away;  leastways,  I  suppose  she  is,"  said 
the  barkeeper. 

"  I  know  it,"  whispered  the  wounded  man ;  "  an'  yet  a 
woman " 

Baggs  looked  inquiringly,  appealingly  about  him,  but 
seemed  unable  to  finish  his  sentence.  His  glance  finally 
rested  upon  Brownie,  a  man  as  characteristic  as  himself,  but 
at  times  displaying  rather  more  heart  than  was  common 
among  Enders.  Brownie  obeyed  the  summons,  and  stooped 
beside  Baggs.  The  bystanders  noticed  that  there  followed 
some  whispering,  at  times  shame-faced,  and  then  in  the 
agony  of  earnestness  on  the  part  of  Baggs,  and  replied  to 
by  Brownie  with  averted  face  and  eyes  gazing  into  nowhere. 

Finally  Brownie  arose  with  an  un-Ender-like  decision, 
and  left  the  saloon.  No  one  else  said  much,  but  there  seemed 
to  circulate  an  impression  that  Baggs  was  consuming  more 
time  than  was  customary  at  the  End. 

Yery  different  was  the  scene  in  Mrs.  Wader's  parlor ; 
instead  of  a  dying  man  surrounded  by  uncouth  beings,  there 
stood  a  beautiful  woman,  radiant  with  health  and  anima- 
tion ;  while  about  her  stood  a  throng  of  well-dressed  gentle- 
men, some  of  them  handsome,  all  of  them  smart,  and  each 
one  craving  a  smile,  a  word,  or  a  look.  Suddenly  the  pomp- 
ous voice  of  General  Wader  arose  : 

"  Most  astonishing  thing  I  ever  heard  of,"  said  he.  "  An 
Ender  has  the  impudence  to  ask  to  see  Miss  Fewne  !" 

"An  Ender?"  exclaimed  the  lady,  her  pretty  lips  parting 
with  surprise. 

"  Yes,  and  he  declares  you  could  not  have  the  heart  to 
say  no,  if  you  knew  his  story." 

"  Is  it  possible,  Miss  Fewne,"  asked  one  admirer,  "  that 
your  cruelty  can  have  driven  any  one  to  have  become  an 
Ender?" 

Mabel's  eyes  seemed  to  glance  inward,  and  she  made  no 
reply.  She  honestly  believed  she  had  never  knowingly 
encouraged  a  man  to  become  her  victim ;  yet  she  had  heard 
of  men  doing  very  silly  things  when  they  thought  them- 


APOLOGY  IN   ORDER.  171 

selves  disappointed  in  love.  She  cast  a  look  of  timid 
inquiry  at  her  host. 

"  Oh,  perfectly  safe,  if  you  like,"  said  the  general.  "  The 
fellow  is  at  the  door,  and  several  of  our  guests  are  in  the 
hall." 

Miss  Fewne  looked  serious,  and  hurried  to  the  door. 
She  saw  a  man  in  shabby  clothing  and  with  unkempt  beard 
and  hair,  yet  with  a  not  unpleasing  expression. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  I'm  a  loafer,  but  I've  been  a  gen- 
tleman, and  I  know  better  than  to  intrude  without  a  good 
cause.  The  cause  is  a  dying  man.  He's  as  rough  and  worth- 
less as  I  am,  but  all  the  roughness  has  gone  out  of  him,  just 
now,  and  he's  thinking  about  his  mother  and  a  sweetheart 
he  used  to  have.  He  wants  some  one  to  pray  for  him — 
some  one  as  unlike  himself  and  his  associates  as  possible. 
He  cried  for  his  mother — then  he  whispered  to  me  that  he 
had  seen,  here  in  Smithton,  a  lady  that  looked  like  an  angel 
— seen  her  driving  only  to-day.  He  meant  you.  He  isn't 
pretty ;  but,  when  a  dying  man  says  a  lady  is  an  angel,  he 
means  what  he  says." 

Two  or  three  moments  later  Miss  Fewne,  with  a  very 
pale  face,  and  with  her  brother-in-law  as  escort,  was  follow- 
ing Brownie.  The  door  of  the  saloon  was  thrown  open, 
and  when  the  Enders  saw  who  was  following  Brownie  they 
cowered  and  fell  back  as  if  a  sheriff  with  his  posse  had 
appeared.  The  lady  looked  quickly  about  her,  until  her 
eye  rested  upon  the  figure  of  the  wounded  man ;  him  she 
approached,  and  as  she  looked  down  her  lip  began  to  trem- 
ble. 

"  I  didn't  mean  it,"  whispered  Baggs,  self-depreciation 
and  pain  striving  for  the  possession  of  his  face.  "If  I 
hadn't  have  been  a-goin',  I  shouldn't  have  thought  of  such 
a  thing,  but  dyin'  takes  away  one's  reg'lar  senses.  It's  not 
my  fault,  ma'am,  but  when  I  thought  about  what  mother 
used  to  say  about  heaven,  you  came  into  my  mind.  I  felt 
as  if  I  was  insultin'  you  just  by  thinkin'  about  you — a  feller 
such  as  me  to  be  thinking  about  such  a  lady.  I  tried  to  see 


172  "GOD  CAN'T  REFUSE 

mother  an'  Liz,  my  sweetheart  that  was,  just  as  I've  seen 
Jem  when  my  eyes  was  shut,  but  I  couldn't  see  nothin'  but 
you,  the  way  you  looked  goin'  along  that  road  and  makin' 
the  End  look  bright.  I'd  shoot  myself  for  the  imperdence 
of  the  thing  if  I  was  goin'  to  get  well  again,  but  I  ain't. 
Ther  needs  to  be  a  word  said  for  me  by  somebody — some- 
body that  don't  chaw,  nor  drink,  nor  swear — somebody  that 
'11  catch  God's  eye  if  He  happens  to  be  lookin'  down — and 
I  never  saw  that  kind  of  a  person  in  Smithton  till  to-day." 

Mabel  stood  speechless,  with  a  tear  in  each  eye. 

"  Don't,  if  you  don't  think  best,"  continued  Baggs.  "  I'd 
rather  go  to — to  t'other  place  than  bother  a  lady.  Don't 
speak  a  word,  if  you  don't  want  to ;  but  mebbe  you'll  think 
the  least  thing  ?  God  can't  refuse  you.  But  if  you  think 
t'other  place  is  best  for  me,  all  right." 

The  fright,  the  sense  of  strangeness,  were  slowly  depart- 
ing from  Mabel,  and  as  she  recovered  herself  her  heart 
seemed  to  come  into  her  face  and  eyes. 

"Ev'rybody  about  here  is  rough,  or  dirty,  or  mean,  or 
rich,  or  proud,  or  somethin',"  continued  the  dying  man,  in 
a  thin  yet  earnest  voice.  "  It's  all  as  good  as  I  deserve ; 
but  my  heart's  ached  sometimes  to  look  at  somebody  that 
would  keep  me  from  b'leevin'  that  ev'rything  was  black  an' 
awful.  And  I've  seen  her.  Can  I  just  touch  my  finger  to 
your  dress  ?  I've  heard  mother  read  how  that  somebody  iD 
the  Old  Country  was  once  made  all  right  by  just  touchin' 
the  clothes  Christ  had  on." 

In  his  earnestness,  the  wretched  man  had  raised  himself 
upon  one  elbow,  and  out  of  his  face  had  departed  every 
expression  but  one  of  pitiful  pleading.  Still  Mabel  could 
not  speak ;  but,  bending  slightly  forward,  she  extended  one 
of  her  slender,  dainty  hands  toward  the  one  which  Baggs 
had  raised  in  his  appeal. 

"  White — shining — good — all  right,"  he  murmured.    Then 
all  of  Baggs  which  fell  back  upon  the  floor  was  clay. 
*  *  #  •*  *  #  * 

With  the  prudence  of  a  conqueror,  who  knows  when  the 


CONQUESTS  AT  AN  END. 


173 


full  extent  of  liis  powers  lias  been  reached,  Mabel  Fewne 
married  within  six  months.  The  happy  man  was  not  a  new 
conquest,  but  an  old  victim,  who  was  willfully  pardoned  with 
such  skill,  that  he  never  doubted  that  his  acceptance  to 
favor  was  the  result  of  the  renewal  of  his  homage. 


MARKSON'S  HOUSE. 

RAINES  is  my  name — Joseph  Raines.  I  am  a  house- 
builder  by  profession,  and  as  I  do  not  often  see  my 
writings  in  print,  except  as  prepaid  advertisements,  I  con- 
sider this  a  good  opportunity  to  say  to  the  public  in  general 
that  I  can  build  as  good  a  house  for  a  given  sum  of  money 
as  any  other  builder,  and  that  I  am  a  square  man  to  deal 
with.  I  am  aware  of  the  fact  that  both  of  these  assertions 
have  been  made  by  many  other  persons  about  themselves ; 
but  to  prove  their  trustworthiness  when  uttered  by  me,  the 
public  needs  only  to  give  me  a  trial.  (In  justice  to  other 
builders,  I  must  admit  they  can  use  even  this  last  statement 
of  mine  with  perfect  safety  for  the  present,  and  with  pro- 
spective profit  if  they  get  a  contract  to  build  a  house.) 

I  suppose  it  will  be  considered  very  presumptuous  in  me 
to  attempt  to  write  a  story,  for,  while  some  professions  seem 
relatives  of  literature,  I  freely  admit  that  there  is  no  carpen- 
ter's tool  which  prepares  one  to  handle  a  pen.  To  be  sure, 
I  have  read  some  stories  which,  it  seemed  to  me,  could  have 
been  improved  by  the  judicious  use  of  a  handsaw,  had  that 
extremely  radical  tool  been  able  to  work  aesthetically  as  it 
does  practically;  and  while  I  have  read  certain  other 
stories,  and  essays,  and  poems,  I  have  been  tormented  by  an 
intense  desire  to  apply  to  them  a  smoothing-plane,  a  pair  of 
compasses,  or  a  square,  or  even  to  so  far  interfere  with  their 
arrangement  as  to  cut  a  window-hole  or  two,  and  an  occa- 
sional ventilator.  Still,  admitting  that  the  carpenter  should 
stick  to  his  bench — or  to  his  office  or  carriage,  if  he  is  a 

174 


WHY  I  WROTE  THIS   STORY.  175 

master  builder,  as  I  am — I  must  yet  insist  that  there  are 
occasions  when  a  man  is  absolutely  compelled  to  handle 
tools  to  which  he  is  not  accustomed.  Doctor  Buzzle,  my 
own  revered  pastor,  established  this  principle  firmly  in  my 
mind  one  day  by  means  of  a  mild  rebuke,  administered  on 
the  occasion  of  my  volunteering  to  repair  some  old  chairs 
which  had  come  down  to  him  through  several  generations. 
The  doctor  was  at  work  upon  them  himself,  and  although 
he  seemed  to  regard  the  very  chips  and  sawdust — even  such 
as  found  a  way  into  his  eyes — with  a  reverent  affection,  he 
was  certainly  ruining  good  material  in  a  shocking  manner. 
But  when  I  proffered  my  assistance,  he  replied : 

"  Thank  you,  Joseph  ;  but — they  wouldn't  be  the  same 
chairs  if  any  one  else  touched  them." 

I  feel  similarly  about  the  matter  of  my  story — perhaps 
you  will  understand  why  as  you  read  it. 

When  I  had  finished  my  apprenticeship,  people  seemed 
to  like  me,  and  some  of  our  principal  men  advised  me  to 
stay  at  Bartley,  my  native  village — it  was  so  near  the  city, 
they  said,  and  would  soon  fill  up  with  city  people,  who 
would  want  villas  and  cottages  built.  So  I  staid,  and  be- 
tween small  jobs  of  repairing,  and  contracts  to  build  fences, 
stables  and  carriage-houses,  I  managed  to  keep  myself  busy, 
and  to  save  a  little  money  after  I  had  paid  my  bills. 

One  day  it  was  understood  that  a  gentleman  from  the 
city  had  bought  a  villa  site  overlooking  the  town,  and  in- 
tended to  build  very  soon.  I  immediately  wrote  him  a  note, 
saying  I  would  be  glad  to  see  his  plans  and  make  an  esti- 
mate ;  and  in  the  course  of  time  the  plans  were  sent  me,  and 
I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  under-estimated  every  one,  even  my 
own  old  employer. 

Then  the  gentleman — Markson  his  name  was — drove  out 
to  see  me,  and  he  put  me  through  a  severe  course  of  ques- 
tions, until  I  wondered  if  he  was  not  some  distinguished 
architect.  But  he  wasn't — he  was  a  shipping-merchant.  It's 
certainly  astonishing  how  smart  some  of  those  city  fellows 
are  about  everything. 


176  HOUSE -BUILDING  AS  A  THEME. 

The  upshot  was,  he  gave  me  the  contract,  and  a  very 
pretty  one  it  was :  ten  thousand  three  hundred  and  forty 
dollars.  To  be  sure,  he  made  me  alter  the  specifications  so 
that  the  sills  should  be  of  stuff  ten  inches  square,  instead 
of  the  thin  stuff  we  usually  use  for  the  sills  of  balloon-frame 
houses,  such  as  his  was  to  be ;  and  though  the  alteration 
would  add  quite  a  few  dollars  to  the  cost  of  materials,  I  did 
not  dare  to  add  a  cent  to  my  estimate,  for  fear  of  losing  the 
contract.  Besides — though,  of  course,  I  did  not  intend  to 
do  so  dishonorable  a  thing — I  knew  that  I  could  easily  make 
up  the  difference  by  using  cheap  paint  instead  of  good  Eng- 
lish lead  for  priming,  or  in  either  one  of  a  dozen  other  ways  ; 
builders  have  such  tricks,  just  as  ministers  and  manufac- 
turers and  railroadmen  do. 

I  felt  considerably  stuck  up  at  getting  Markson's  house 
to  build,  and  my  friends  said  I  had  a  perfect  right  to  feel  so, 
for  no  house  so  costly  had  been  built  at  Bartley  for  several 
years. 

So  anxious  were  my  friends  that  I  should  make  a  first- 
class  job  of  it,  that  they  all  dropped  in  to  discuss  the  plan 
with  me,  and  to  give  me  some  advice,  until — thanks  to  their 
thoughtful  kindness — my  head  would  have  been  in  a  muddle 
had  the  contemplated  structure  been  a  cheap  barn  instead 
of  a  costly  villa. 

But,  by  a  careful  review  of  the  original  plan  every  night 
after  my  friends  departed,  and  a  thoughtful  study  of  it  each 
morning  before  going  to  work,  I  succeeded  in  completing  it 
according  to  the  ideas  of  the  only  two  persons  really  con- 
cerned— I  refer  to  Mr.  Markson  and  myself. 

Admitting  in  advance  that  there  is  in  the  house-building 
business  very  little  that  teaches  a  man  to  be  a  literary 
critic,  I  must  nevertheless  say  that  many  poets  of  ancient 
and  modern  times  might  have  found  the  building  of  a  house 
a  far  more  inspiring  theme  than  some  upon  which  they 
have  written,  and  even  a  more  respectable  one  than  cer- 
tain others  which  some  distinguished  rhymers  have  unfor- 
tunately selected. 


MORALIZING  ON  HOUSE-BUILDING.  177 

I  have  always  wondered  why,  after  Mr.  Longfellow  wrote 
"  The  Building  of  a  Ship,"  some  one  did  not  exercise  his- 
nmse  upon  a  house.  1  never  attempted  poetry  myself,  ex- 
cept upon  my  first  baby,  and  even  those  verses  I  transcribed 
with  my  left  hand,  so  they  might  not  betray  me  to  the 
editor  of  the  Bartley  Conservator,  to  whom  I  sent  them,  and 
by  whom  they  were  published. 

I  say  I  never  attempted  poetry-writing  save  once ;  but 
sometimes  when  I  am  working  on  a  house,  and  think  of  all 
that  must  transpire  within  it — of  the  precious  ones  who  will 
escape,  no  matter  how  strongly  I  build  the  walls;  of  the 
destroyer  who  will  get  in,  in  spite  of  the  improved  locks  I 
put  on  all  my  houses ;  of  the  darkness  which  cannot  at 
times  be  dispelled,  no  matter  how  large  the  windows,  nor 
how  perfect  the  glass  may  be  (I  am  very  particular  about  the 
glass  I  put  in) ;  of  the  occasional  joys  which  seem  meet  for 
heavenly  mansions  not  built  by  contract;  of  the  unseen 
heroisms  greater  than  any  that  men  have  ever  cheered,  and 
the  conquests  in  comparison  with  which  the  achievements 
of  mighty  kings  are  only  as  splintery  hemlock  to  Georgia 
pine — when  I  think  of  all  this,  I  am  so  lifted  above  all  that 
is  prosaic  and  matter-of-fact,  that  I  am  likely  even  to  forget 
that  I  am  working  by  contract  instead  of  by  the  day. 

Besides,  Markson's  house  was  my  first  job  on  a  residence, 
and  it  was  a  large  one,  and  I  was  young,  and  full  of  what  I 
fancied  were  original  ideas  of  taste  and  effect ;  and  as  I  was 
unmarried,  and  without  any  special  lady  friend,  I  was  com- 
pletely absorbed  in  Markson's  house. 

How  it  would  look  when  it  was  finished  ;  what  views  it 
would  command ;  whether  its  architectural  style  was  not 
rather  subdued,  considering  the  picturesque  old  hemlocks 
which  stood  near  by ;  what  particular  shade  of  color  would 
be  effective  alike  to  the  distant  observer  and  to  those  who 
stood  close  by  when  the  light  reached  it  only  through  the 
green  of  the  hemlock ;  just  what  color  and  blending  of  slate 
to  select,  so  the  steep-pitched  roof  should  not  impart  a 
sombre  effect  to  the  whole  house  ;  how  much  money  I  would 

12 


178  INSPECTING  THE  SILLS. 

make  on  it  (for  this  is  a  matter  of  utter  uncertainty  until 
your  work  is  done,  and  you  know  what  you've  paid  out  and 
what  you  get) ;  whether  Markson  could  influence  his  friends 
in  my  favor  ;  what  sort  of  a  family  he  had,  and  whether  they 
were  worthy  of  the  extra  pains  I  was  taking  on  their  house 
— these  and  a  thousand  other  wonderings  and  reveries  kept 
possession  of  my  mind ;  while  the  natural  pride  and  hope 
and  confidence  of  a  young  man  turned  to  sweet  music  the 
sound  of  saw  and  hammer  and  trowel,  and  even  translated 
the  rustling  of  pine  shavings  with  hopeful  whispers. 

The  foundations  had  been  laid,  and  the  sills  placed  in 
position,  and  I  was  expecting  to  go  on  with  the  work  as 
soon  as  Markson  himself  had  inspected  the  sills — this,  he 
said,  he  wished  to  do  before  anything  further  was  done ;  and, 
so  that  he  might  not  have  any  fault  to  find  with  them,  I  had 
them  sawn  to  order,  and  made  half  an  inch  larger  each  way, 
so  they  couldn't  possibly  shrink  before  he  could  measure 
them. 

The  night  before  he  was  to  come  up  and  examine  them, 
I  was  struck  at  the  supper-table  by  the  idea  that  perhaps, 
from  one  of  the  western  chamber- windows,  there  might  be 
seen  the  river  which  lay,  between  the  hills,  a  couple  of 
miles  beyond.  As  the  moon  was  up  and  full,  I  could 
not  rest  until  I  had  ascertained  whether  I  was  right 
or  wrong ;  so  I  put  a  twenty-foot  tapeline  in  my  pocket,  and 
hurried  off  to  the  hill  where  the  house  was  to  stand. 

Foundation  three  feet,  height  of  parlor  ceilings  twelve 
feet,  allow  for  floors  two  feet  more,  made  the  chamber-floor 
seventeen  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ground. 

Climbing  one  of  the  hemlocks  which  I  thought  must  be 
in  line  with  the  river  and  the  window,  I  dropped  my  line 
until  I  had  unrolled  seventeen  feet,  and  then  ascended  until 
the  end  of  the  line  just  touched  the  ground.  I  found  I  was 
right  in  my  supposition ;  and  in  the  clear,  mellow  light  of 
the  moon  the  river,  the  hills  and  valleys,  woods,  fields, 
orchards,  houses  and  rocks  (the  latter  ugly  enough  by  day- 
light, and  utterly  useless  for  building  purposes)  made  a 


THE   MIDNIGHT   VISITOR.  179 

picture  which  set  me  thinking  of  a  great  many  exquisite 
things  entirely  out  of  the  housebuilding  line. 

I  might  have  stared  till  the  moon  went  down,  for  when 
I've  nothing  else  to  do  I  dearly  enjoy  dreaming  with  my 
eyes  open ;  but  I  heard  a  rustling  in  the  leaves  a  little  way 
off,  and  then  I  heard  footsteps,  and  then,  looking  downward, 
I  saw  a  man  come  up  the  path,  and  stop  under  the  fcree  in 
which  I  was. 

Of  course  I  wondered  what  he  wanted ;  I  should  have 
done  so,  even  if  I  had  had  no  business  there  myself ;  but 
under  the  circumstances,  I  became  very  much  excited. 

"Who  could  it  be  ?  Perhaps  some  rival  builder,  come  to 
take  revenge  by  setting  my  lumber  afire  !  I  would  go  down 
and  reason  with  him.  But,  wait  a  moment ;  if  he  has  come 
for  that  purpose,  he  may  make  things  uncomfortable  for  me 
before  I  reach  the  ground.  And  if  he  sets  the  lumber  afire, 
and  it  catches  the  tree  I  am  in,  as  it  will  certainly  do,  I  will 
be 

There  is  no  knowing  what  sort  of  a  quandary  I  might 
not  have  got  into  if  the  man  had  not  stepped  out  into  the 
moonlight,  and  up  on  the  sills,  and  shown  himself  to  be 
— Mr.  Markson. 

"  Well,"  I  thought,  "  you  are  the  most  particular  man  I 
ever  knew — and  the  most  anxious  !  I  don't  know,  though — 
it's  natural  enough  ;  if  I  can't  keep  away  from  this  house, 
it's  not  strange  that  he  should  want  to  see  all  of  it  he  can. 
It's  natural  enough,  and  it  does  him  credit." 

But  Mr.  Markson's  next  action  was  neither  natural  nor 
to  his  credit.  He  took  off  his  traveling  shawl,  and  disclosed 
a  carpenter's  brace;  this  and  the  shawl  he  laid  on  the 
ground,  and  then  he  examined  the  sills  at  the  corners,  where 
they  were  joined. 

They  were  only  half  joined,  as  we  say  in  the  trade — that 
is,  the  ends  of  each  piece  of  timber  were  sawn  half  through 
and  the  partially  detached  portions  cut  out,  so  that  the 
ends  lapped  over  each  other. 

Well,  Mr.  Markson  hastily  stacked  up  bricks  and  boards 


180  A     STRANGE  PROCEDURE. 

to  the  height  of  the  foundation,  and  then  made  a  similar 
stack  at  the  other  end  of  the  foundation-wall,  and  then  he 
rolled  one  of  the  sills  over  on  these  two  supports,  so  it  was 
bottom  side  up.  Then  he  fitted  a  bit — a  good  wide  one,  an 
inch  and  a  quarter,  at  least,  I  should  say — to  the  brace,  and 
then  commenced  boring  a  hole  in  the  sill. 

I  was  astonished,  but  not  too  much  so  to  be  angry.  That 
piece  of  timber  was  mine  ;  Mr.  Markson  had  not  paid  me  a 
cent  yet,  and  was  not  to  do  so  until  the  next  morning,  after 
examining  the  foundations  and  sills. 

I  had  heard  of  such  tricks  before  ;  my  old  employer  had 
had  men  secretly  injure  a  building,  so  as  to  claim  it  was  not 
built  according  to  contract  when  the  money  came  due,  but 
none  of  them  did  it  so  early  in  the  course  of  the  business. 

Within  a  few  seconds  my  opinion  of  Mr.  Markson's 
smartness  altered  greatly,  and  so  did  my  opinion  of  human 
nature  in  general.  I  would  have  sadly,  but  promptly  sold  out 
my  contract  with  Mr.  Markson  for  the  price  of  a  ticket  for 
the  West,  and  I  should  have  taken  the  first  train. 

As  he  bored  that  hole  I  could  see  just  how  all  the  other 
builders  in  town  would  look  when  I  had  to  take  the  law  on 
Markson,  and  how  all  my  friends  would  come  and  tell  me  I 
ought  to  have  insisted  on  a  payment  in  advance. 

But,  after  several  sorrowful  moments  had  elapsed,  I 
commenced  to  think,  and  I  soon  made  up  my  mind  what  I 
would  do.  I  would  not  descend  from  the  tree  while  he  was 
there — I  have  too  much  respect  for  my  person  to  put  it  at 
the  mercy  of  an  ill-disposed  individual.  But  as  soon  as  he 
left  the  place,  I  would  hasten  to  the  ground,  follow  him,  and 
demand  an  explanation.  He  might  be  armed,  but  I  was, 
too — there  were  hard  characters  at  Bartley,  and  they  knew 
my  pocket-book  was  sometimes  full. 

Hole  after  hole  that  man  bored;  he  made  one  join 
another  until  he  had  a  string  of  them  ten  inches  long,  or 
thereabouts  ;  then  he  began  another  string,  right  beside  the 
first,  and  then  another. 

I  saw  that  his  bit  went  but  six  or  seven  inches  deep,  so 


KNELT  ON  THE  GKOTJND  BESIDES  THE  SILL,  AND  I  COULD  SEE  THAT  HE 
WAS   PRAYING. 


182 


THE   HIDDEN   PACKAGE.  183 

that  it  did  not  pierce  the  sill,  and  I  could  almost  believe 
him  in  league  with  some  rival  builder  to  ruin  my  reputation 
by  turning  over;  next  morning,  a  log  apparently  sound,  and 
showing  it  to  be  full  of  holes. 

I  didn't  feel  any  better-natured,  either,  when  I  noticed 
that  he  had  carefully  put  a  newspaper  under  where  he  was 
boring  to  catch  all  the  chips,  and  destroy  any  idea  of  the 
mischief  having  been  done  wilfully  and  on  the  spot ;  but  I 
determined  I  would  follow  him,  and  secure  that  paper  of 
chips  as  evidence. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  boring,  and  took  a  chisel  from 
somewhere  about  his  clothes,  and  he  soon  chiseled  that 
honeycombed  spot  into  a  single  hole,  about  five  inches  by 
ten,  and  six  or  seven  inches  deep. 

It  slowly  dawned  over  me  that  perhaps  his  purpose 
wasn't  malicious,  after  all ;  and  by  the  time  I  had  reasoned 
the  matter  he  helped  me  to  a  conclusion  by  taking  from 
his  pocket  a  little  flat  package,  which  he  put  into  the  hole. 

It  looked  as  if  it  might  be  papers,  or  something  the  size 
of  folded  papers ;  but  it  was  wrapped  in  something  yellow 
and  shiny— oil  skin,  probably,  to  keep  it  from  the  damp. 
Then  he  drove  a  few  little  nails  inside  the  holes  to  keep 
the  package  from  falling  out  when  the  sill  was  turned  over; 
and  then  he  did  something  which  I  never  saw  mixed  with 
carpenter-work  in  my  life — he  stooped  and  kissed  the  pack- 
age as  it  lay  in  the  hole,  and  then  he  knelt  on  the  ground 
beside  the  sill,  and  I  could  see  by  his  face  upturned  in  the 
moonlight,  showing  his  closed  eyes  and  moving  lips,  that  he 
was  praying. 

Up  to  that  moment  I  had  been  curious  to  know  what  was 
in  that  package  ;  but  after  what  I  saw  then,  I  never  thought 
of  it  without  wanting  to  utter  a  small  prayer  myself,  though 
I  never  could  decide  what  would  be  the  appropriate  thing  to 
say,  seeing  I  knew  none  of  the  circumstances.  I  am  very 
particular  not  to  give  recommendations  except  where  I  am 
very  sure  the  person  I  recommend  is  all  right. 

Well,  Markson  disappeared  a  moment  or  two  after,  first 


184  HELEN,  THE  DAUGHTER. 

carefully  replacing  the  sill,  and  carrying  away  the  chips,  and 
I  got  out  of  my  tree,  forgetting  all  about  the  view  I  had  dis- 
covered ;  and  the  unexpected  scene  I  had  looked  at  ran  in  my 
mind  so  constantly  that,  during  the  night,  I  dreamed  that 
Markson  stood  in  the  hemlock-tree,  with  a  gigantic  brace 
and  bit,  and  bored  holes  in  the  hills  beside  the  river,  while 
I  kneeled  in  the  second  story  window-frame,  and  kissed  my 
contract  with  Markson,  and  prayed  that  I  might  make  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars  out  of  it.  It  is  perfectly  astonish- 
ing what  things  a  sensible  man  will  sometimes  dream. 

Next  morning  I  arrived  at  the  building  a  few  minutes 
before  seven,  and  found  Markson  there  before  me.  He  ex- 
pressed himself  satisfied  with  everything,  and  paid  me  then 
and  there  a  thousand  dollars,  which  was  due  on  acceptance 
of  the  work  as  far  as  then  completed. 

He  hung  around  all  day  while  we  put  up  the  post  and 
•studding— probably  to  see  that  the  sill  was  not  turned  over 
and  his  secret  disclosed ;  and  it  was  with  this  idea  that  I 
•set  the  studding  first  on  his  particular  sill.  By  night  we 
had  the  frame  so  near  up,  that  there  was  no  possibility  of 
the  sill  being  moved;  and  then  Markson  went  away. 

He  came  up  often,  after  that,  to  see  how  his  house  was 
getting  along.  Each  time  he  came  he  would  saunter  around 
to  that  particular  sill,  and  when  I  noticed  that  he  did  this, 
I  made  some  excuse  to  call  the  men  away  from  that  side  of 
the  house. 

Sometimes  he  brought  his  family  with  him,  and  I 
scarcely  knew  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry;  for,  while  his 
daughter,  a  handsome,  strong,  bright,  honest,  golden-haired 
girl  of  fifteen  or  sixteen,  always  affected  me  as  if  she  was 
a  streak  of  sunshine,  and  made  me  hope  I  should  some  day 
have  a  daughter  like  her,  his  wife  always  affected  me  un- 
pleasantly. 

I  am  not  a  good  physiognomist,  but  I  notice  most  peo- 
ple resemble  animals  of  some  sort,  and  when  I  decide  on 
what  animal  it  is,  in  any  particular  case,  I  judge  the  person 
accordingly. 


WHAT  THE  NEIGHBORS  KNOW.  185 

Now,  Mrs.  Markson — who  was  evidently  her  husband's 
second  wife,  for  she  was  too  young  to  be  Helen's  mother — 
was  rather  handsome  and  extremely  elegant,  but  neither 
manners  nor  dress  could  hide  a  certain  tigerish  expression 
which  was  always  in  her  face.  It  was  generally  inactive,  but 
it  was  never  absent,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  it  awoke 
once  or  twice  when  she  disapproved  something  which  was 
done  or  said,  made  me  understand  why  Mr.  Markson,  who 
always  seemed  pleasant  and  genial  with  any  one  else,  was 
quite  silent  and  guarded  when  his  wife  was  with  him. 

Pretty  soon  the  people  of  Bartley  knew  all  about  the 
Marksons.  How  people  learn  all  about  other  people  is 
more  than  I  can  explain.  I  never  have  a  chance  to  know 
all  about  my  neighbors,  for  I  am  kept  busy  in  looking 
to  myself;  but  if  all  the  energy  that  is  devoted  to  other 
people's  business  in  Bartley  were  expended  on  house-build- 
ing, trade  would  soon  be  so  dull  that  I  should  be  longing 
for  a  mansion  in  the  skies. 

Everybody  in  Bartley  knew  that  Helen  Markson's 
mother,  who  was  very  beautiful  and  lovable,  had  died  years 
before,  and  that  her  stepmother  had  been  Mrs.  Markson 
only  two  or  three  years  ;  that  the  second  Mrs.  Markson  had 
married  for  money,  and  that  her  husband  was  afraid  of  her, 
and  would  run  away  from  her  if  it  wasn't  for  Helen ;  that 
Mrs.  Markson  sometimes  got  angry,  and  then  she  raved 
like  mad,  and  that  it  was  wearing  Mr.  Markson's  life 
away;  for  he  was  a  tender-hearted  man,  in  spite  of  hi&. 
smartness.  Some  even  declared  that  Markson  had  willed! 
her  all  his  property,  and  insured  his  life  heavily  for  her  be- 
sides, and  that  if  he  died  before  Helen  was  married,  Helenj 
would  be  a  beggar. 

But  none  of  these  things  had  anything  to  do  with  my 
contract.  I  worked  away  and  had  good  weather,  so  I  lost  no 
time,  and  at  the  end  of  five  months  I  had  finished  the  house, 
been  paid  for  it,  had  paid  my  bills,  and  made  a  clear  two 
thousand  dollars  on  the  job.  I  could  have  made  a  thousand 
more,  without  any  one  being  the  wiser  for  it,  but  I  don't 


186  MARKSON  SENDS  FOR  ME. 

build  houses  in  that  way — the  public  will  greatly  oblige  me 
by  cutting  this  out.  This  money  gave  me  a  handsome 
business  start,  and  having  had  no  serious  losses,  nor  any 
houses  thrown  back  upon  my  hands — (for  I  always  make  it 
a  point  to  do  a  little  better  than  I  promise,  so  folks  can't 
find  fault) — I  am  now  quite  well  off,  and  building  houses  on 
my  own  account,  to  sell ;  while  some  of  my  competitors,  who 
started  before  I  did,  have  been  through  bankruptcy,  while 
some  have  been  too  poor  to  do  even  that. 

A  few  years  after  building  Markson's  house,  I  went  with 
a  Southern  friend  into  a  black-walnut  speculation.  We 
bought  land  in  the  Southwest,  cut  the  timber,  got  it  to  mar- 
ket, and  made  a  handsome  profit,  I  am  glad  to  say.  This 
business  took  me  away  from  home,  and  kept  me  for  months, 
but,  as  I  was  still  without  family  ties,  I  did  not  suffer  much 
during  my  absence.  Still  the  old  village  seemed  to  take  on 
a  kind  of  motherly  air  as  the  stage,  with  me  in  it,  rattled 
into  town,  and  I  was  just  dropping  into  a  pleasant  little 
.  reverie,  when  a  carriage,  which  I  recognized  as  Markson's, 
dashed  down  the  road,  met  us,  and  stopped,  while  the  coach- 
man shouted  : 

"  Raines's  foreman'  says  the  old  man's  coming  home  to- 
day." 

He  meant  me. 

"  Beckon  his  head  was  purty  level,"  replied  the  stage- 
driver,  tossing  his  head  backward  toward  me. 

"  Mr.  Raines,"  said  the  coachman,  recognizing  me,  "  Mr. 
Markson  is  awful  sick — like  to  die  any  minute — an'  he  wants 
to  see  you  right  away — wishes  you  wouldn't  wait  for  any- 
thing." ' 

What  to  make  of  it  I  didn't  know,  and  said  so,  upon 
which  the  stage-driver  rather  pettishly  suggested  that 
'twouldn't  take  long  to  find  out  if  I  got  behind  Markson's 
team ;  and,  as  I  agreed  with  him,  I  changed  conveyances, 
and  was  soon  at  Markson's  house. 

Helen  met  me  at  the  door,  and  led  me  immediately  to 
Markson's  chamber.  The  distance  from  the  door  of  his 


A  DYING  MAN'S  LAST  BEQUEST.  187 

room  to  tlie  side  of  his  bed  couldn't  have  been  more  than 
twenty  feet,  yet,  in  passing  over  it,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
imagined  at  least  fifty  reasons  why  the  sick  man  had  sent 
for  me,  but  not  one  of  the  fifty  was  either  sensible  or  satis- 
factory. 

I  was  even  foolish  enough  to  imagine  Markson's  con- 
science was  troubled,  and  that  he  was  going  to  pay  me  some 
money  which  he  justly  owed  me,  whereas  he  had  paid  me 
every  cent,  according  to  contract. 

We  reached  his  bedside  before  I  had  determined  what  it 
•could  be.  Helen  took  his  hand,  and  said : 

"  Father,  here  is  Mr.  Raines." 

Markson,  who  was  lying  motionless,  with  his  face  to  tlio> 
•wall,  turned  quickly  over  and  grasped  my  hand  and  beck- 
oned me  closer.  I  put  my  head  down,  and  he  whispered  : 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come  ;  I  want  to  ask  you  a  favor — a 
•dying  man's  last  request.  You're  an  honest  man  (N.  B. — 
People  intending  to  build  will  please  make  a  note  of  this. — 
J.  E.),  I  am  sure,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me  do  justice.  You 
have  seen  my  wife  ;  she  can  be  a  tiger  when  she  wants  to. 
She  married  me  for  money ;  she  thinks  the  will  I  made  some 
time  ago,  leaving  everything  to  her,  is  my  last.  But  it  is 
not.  I've  deceived  her,  for  the  sake  of  peace.  I  made  one 
since,  leaving  the  bulk  of  my  property  to  Helen ;  it  came 
to  me  through  her  dear  mother.  I  know  nobody  to  trust  it 
with.  Mrs.  Markson  can  wrap  almost  any  one  around  her 
iinger  when  she  tries,  and " 

His  breath  began  to  fail,  and  the  entrance  of  his  wife  did 
not  seem  to  strengthen  him  any  ;  but  he  finally  regained  it, 
.and  continued : 

"  She  will  try  it  with  you ;  but  you  are  cool  as  well  as 
honest,  I  believe.  I  meant  to  tell  Helen  where  the  will  was 
the  day  after  I  put  it  there  ;  but  she  was  so  young— it  seemed 
dreadful  to  let  her  know  how  cowardly  her  father  was — how 
he  feared  her.  Get  it — get  a  good  lawyer — see  she  has  her 
rights.  I  put  it — no  one  could  suspect  where — I  put  it — 
in—the " 


188  THE  WIDOW'S  PLEASANT  SMILE. 

His  breath  failed  him  entirely,  and  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
mine  with  an  agonized  expression  which  makes  me  shiver 
whenever  I  think  of  it.  Suddenly  his  strange  operation 
with  that  sill,  of  which  I  had  not  thought  for  a  long  time, 
came  into  my  mind,  and  I  whispered,  quickly : 

"  In  the  sill  of  the  house  ?" 

His  expression  instantly  changed  to  a  very  happy  one, 
and  yet  he  looked  wonderstruck,  which  was  natural  enough. 

"I  saw  you  put  it  there,"  said  I.  "But,"  I  continued, 
fearing  the  dying  man  might  suspect  me  of  spying,  and  so 
fear  he  had  mistaken  my  character — "  but  I  did  not  mean 

to I  was  on  the  ground  when  you  came  there  that 

evening ;  and  when  I  saw  what  you  were  doing,  I  could  not 
move  for  fear  of  disturbing  you.  I  know  where  to  find  it, 
and  I  can  swear  you  put  it  there." 

Markson  closed  his  eyes,  and  never  opened  them  again  ; 
and  his  last  act,  before  going  out  of  the  world,  was  to  give 
my  hand  a  squeeze,  which,  under  the  circumstances,  I  could 
not  help  believing  was  an  honest  one. 

As  his  hand  relaxed,  I  felt  that  I  had  better  give  place 
to  those  who  had  a  right  to  it,  so  I  quietly  retired.  Helen 
fell  on  her  knees  by  his  bedside,  but  Mrs.  Markson  followed 
me  out  of  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Raines,"  said  she,  with  a  very  pleasant  smile  for  a. 
woman  widowed  but  a  moment  before,  "  what  did  my  dear 
husband  want  ?" 

Now,  I  am  an  honest  man  and  a  Church-member — and  I 
was  one  then,  and  believed  in  truth  and  straightforwardness- 
just  as  much  as  I  do  now — but,  somehow,  when  such  a  per- 
son speaks  to  me,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  all  of  a  sudden  a  velvet- 
pawed  cat  myself.  So  I  answered,  with  the  straightest  of 
faces : 

"  Only  to  see  to  one  of  the  sills  of  the  house,  ma'am, 
and  he  made  me  solemnly  swear  to  do  it  right  away.  He 
was  an  extraordinary  man,  ma'am,  to  think  of  the  good  of 
his  family  up  to  the  last  moment." 

"Ah,  yes,  dear  man!"  said  she,  with  a  sigh  which  her 


REPAIRS  DONE  DURING  THE  FUNERAL.         189 

face  plainly  showed  came  from  nowhere  deeper  than  her 
lips.  "  I  hope  it  won't  take  long,  though,"  she  continued, 
"  for  I  can't  endure  noise  in  the  house." 

"  Not  more  than  an  hour,"  I  replied. 

"Oh,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it!"  said  she.  "Perhaps,  then, 
you  might  do  it  while  we  are  at  the  funeral,  day  after  to-mor- 
row? We  will  be  gone  at  least  two  hours." 

"  Easily,  ma'am,"  said  I,  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth  at 
the  idea  of  managing  the  matter  so  soon,  and  having  the 
papers  for  Helen  as  soon  as,  in  any  sort  of  decency,  Mrs. 
Markson  would  be  likely  to  have  the  old  will  read. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  I  was  so  absent-minded  to  every- 
thing except  this  business  of  Markson's  that  my  acquaint- 
ances remarked  that,  considering  how  long  I  had  been  gone, 
I  didn't  seem  very  glad  to  see  any  one. 

Finally  I  went  to  old  Judge  Bardlow,  who  was  as  true  as 
steel,  and  told  him  the  whole  story,  and  he  advised  me  to 
get  the  papers,  and  give  them  to  him  to  examine.  So,  on 
the  day  of  the  funeral,  I  entered  the  house  with  a  mallet 
and  a  mortizing  chisel,  and  within  fifteen  minutes  I  had  in 
my  pocket  the  package  Markson  had  put  in  the  sill  years 
before,  and  was  hurrying  to  the  judge's  office. 

He  informed  me  that  Mrs.  Markson's  lawyer,  from  the 
•city,  had  called  on  him  that  very  morning,  and  invited  him 
to  be  present  at  the  reading  of  the  will  in  the  afternoon,  so 
he  would  be  able  to  put  things  in  proper  shape  at  once. 

I  was  more  nervous  all  that  day  than  I  ever  was  in  wait- 
ing to  hear  from  an  estimate.  It  was  none  of  my  business, 
to  be  sure  ;  but  I  longed  to  see  Mrs.  Markson  punished  for 
the  mischief  which  I  and  every  one  else  believed  she  had 
done  her  husband ;  and  I  longed  to  see  Helen,  whom  every 
one  liked,  triumph  over  her  stepmother,  who,  still  young 
and  gay,  was  awfully  jealous  of  Helen's  beauty  and  general 
attractiveness. 

Finally  the  long  day  wore  away,  and  an  hour  or  two  after 
the  carriages  returned  from  the  funeral,  the  city  lawyer  called 
for  the  judge,  and,  at  the  judge's  suggestion,  they  both  called 
for  me. 


190  READING  THE  WILL. 

"We  found  Mrs.  Markson  and  Helen,  with  some  of  Mrs. 
Markson's  relatives— Helen  had  not  one  in  the  world— in 
the  parlor,  Mrs.  Markson  looking  extremely  pretty  in  her 
neat-fitting  suit  of  black,  and  Helen  looking  extremely  dis- 
consolate. 

The  judge,  in  a  courtly,  old-fashioned  way,  but  with  a 
good  deal  of  heart  for  all  that,  expressed  his  sympathy  for 
Helen,  and  I  tried  to  say  a  kind  word  to  her  myself.  To  be 
sure,  it  was  all  praise  of  her  father,  whom  I  really  respected 
very  highly  (aside  from  my  having  had  my  first  contract 
from  him),  but  she  was  large-hearted  enough  to  like  it  all 
the  better  for  that.  I  was  still  speaking  to  her  when  Mrs. 
Markson's  lawyer  announced  that  he  would  read  the  last 
will  and  testament  of  the  deceased  ;  so,  when  she  sat  down 
on  a  sofa,  I  took  a  seat  beside  her. 

The  document  was  very  brief.  He  left  Helen  the  inter- 
est of  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  the  same  to  cease  if 
she  married ;  all  the  rest  of  the  property  he  left  to  his  wife. 
As  the  lawyer  concluded,  Helen's  face  put  on  an  expression 
of  wonder  and  grief,  succeeded  by  one  of  utter  loneliness  ; 
while  from  Mrs.  Markson's  eyes  there  flashed  an  exultant 
look  that  had  so  much  of  malignity  in  it  that  it  made  me 
understand  the  nature  of  Satan  a  great  deal  more  clearly 
than  any  sermon  ever  made  me  do.  Poor  Helen  tried  to- 
meet  it  with  fearlessness  and  dignity,  but  she  seemed  to  feel 
as  if  even  her  father  had  abandoned  her,  and  she  dropped 
her  head  and  burst  into  tears. 

I  know  it  wasn't  the  thing  to  do  before  company,  but  I 
took  her  hand  and  called  her  a  poor  girl,  and  begged  her  to 
keep  a  good  heart,  and  trust  that  her  father  loved  her  truly, 
and  that  her  wrongs  would  be  righted  at  the  proper  time. 

Being  kind  to  my  fellow-creatures  is  the  biggest  part  of 
my  religion,  for  it's  the  part  of  religion  I  understand  best ; 
but  even  if  I  had  been  a  heathen,  I  couldn't  have  helped 
wishing  well  to  a  noble,  handsome  woman  like  Helen  Mark- 
son.  I  tried  to  speak  in  a  very  low  tone,  but  Mrs.  Markson 
seemed  to  understand  what  I  said,  for  she  favored  me  with 
a  look  more  malevolent  than  any  I  had  ever  received  from 


A    SECOND   WILL.  191 

my  most  impecunious  debtor;  the  natural  effect  was  to 
wake  up  all  the  old  Adam  there  was  in  me,  and  to  make  me 
long  for  what  was  coming. 

"  May  1  ask  the  date  of  that  will  ?"  asked  Judge  Bardlow. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Markson's  lawyer,  handing 
the  document  to  the  judge.  The  judge  looked  at  the  date, 
handed  the  will  back  to  the  lawyer,  and  drew  from  his 
pocket  an  envelope. 

"  Here  is  a  will  made  by  Mr.  Markson,"  said  the  judge, 
"  and  dated  three  months  later." 

Mrs.  Markson  started ;  her  eyes  flashed  with  a  sort  of 
fire  which  I  hope  I  may  never  see  again,  and  she  caught  her 
lower  lip  up  between  her  teeth.  The  judge  read  the  docu- 
ment as  calmly  as  if  it  had  been  a  mere  supervisor's  notice, 
whereas  it  was  different  to  the  first  will  in  every  respect,  for 
it  gave  to  Helen  all  of  his  property,  of  every  description, 
on  condition  that  she  paid  to  Mrs.  Markson  yearly  the  inter- 
est of  twenty  thousand  dollars  until  death  or  marriage, 
"this  being  the  amount,"  as  the  will  said,  "that  she  assured 
me  would  be  amply  sufficient  for  my  daughter  under  like 
circumstances." 

As  the  judge  ceased  reading,  and  folded  the  document, 
Mrs.  Markson  sprang  at  him  as  if  she  were  a  wild  beast. 

"  Give  it  to  me  !"  she  screamed — hissed,  rather  ;  "  'tis  a 
vile,  hateful  forgery!" 

"  Madame,"  said  the  judge,  hastily  putting  the  will  in  his 
pocket,  and  taking  off  his  glasses,  "  that  is  a  matter  which 
the  law  wisely  provides  shall  not  be  decided  by  interested 
parties.  When  I  present  it  for  probate " 

"  I'll  break  it !"  interrupted  Mrs.  Markson,  glaring,  as  my 
family  cat  does  when  a  mouse  is  too  quick  for  her. 

Mrs.  Markson's  lawyer  asked  permission  to  look  at  the 
newer  will,  which  the  judge  granted.  He  looked  carefully 
at  the  signature  of  Markson  and  the  witnesses,  and  returned 
the  document  with  a  sigh. 

"  Don't  attempt  it,  madame — no  use,"  said  he.  "  I  know 
all  the  signatures ;  seen  them  a  hundred  times.  I'm  sorry, 


192  MARKSON'S  HOUSE  VACATED. 

very — affects  my  pocket  some,  for  it  cuts  some  of  my  pros- 
pective fees,  but — that  will  can't  be  broken." 

Mrs.  Markson  turned,  looked  at  Helen  a  second,  and 
then  dashed  at  her,  as  if  "  to  scatter,  tear  and  slay,"  as  the 
old  funeral  hymn  says.  Helen  stumbled  and  cowered  a 
little  toward  me,  seeing  which  I — how  on  earth  I  came  to 
do  it  I  don't  know — put  my  arm  around  her,  and  looked 
indignantly  at  Mrs.  Markson. 

"  You  treacherous  hussy !"  said  Mrs.  Markson,  stamping 
her  foot — "  you  scheming  little  minx !  I  could  kill  you !  I 
could  tear  you  to  pieces !  I  could  drink  your  very  heart's 
blood— I  could " 

What  else  she  could  do  she  was  prevented  from  telling, 
for  she  fell  into  a  fit,  and  was  carried  out  rigid  and  foaming 
at  the  mouth. 

I  am  generally  sorry  to  see  even  wicked  people  suffer,  but 
I  wasn't  a  bit  sorry  to  see  Mrs.  Markson ;  for,  while  she  was 
talking,  poor  Helen  trembled  so  violently  that  it  seemed  to 
me  she  would  be  scared  to  death  if  her  cruel  stepmother 
talked  much  longer. 

Two  hours  later  Mrs.  Markson,  with  all  her  relatives  and 
personal  effects,  left  the  house,  and  six  months  afterward 
Mrs.  Markson  entrapped  some  other  rich  man  into  marrying 
her.  She  never  tried  to  break  Marston's  will. 

As  Helen  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  this 
new  will  until  she  heard  it  read,  the  judge  explained  to  her 
where  it  came  from ;  and  as  she  was  naturally  anxious  for 
all  the  particulars  of  its  discovery,  the  judge  sent  me  to  her 
to  tell  her  the  whole  story.  So  I  dressed  myself  and  drove 
down — for,  though  still  under  thirty,  I  was  well  off,  and 
drove  my  own  span — and  told  her  of  my  interview  with  her 
father,  on  his  deathbed,  as  well  as  of  the  scene  on  the  night 
he  hid  the  will. 

As  I  told  the  latter  part  of  the  story  a  reverent,  loving, 
self-forgetful  look  came  into  her  face,  and  made  her  seem 
to  me  like  an  angel.  As  for  myself,  the  recalling  of  the 
incident,  now  that  I  knew  its  sequel,  prevented  my  keeping 


A  LONGING   FULFILLED.  193 

my  eyes  dry.  I  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  myself  and  Imrried 
away,  but  her  look  while  I  spoke  of  her  father,  and  her 
trembling  form  in  my  arms  while  Mrs.  Markson  raved  at 
her,  were  constantly  in  my  mind,  and  muddled  a  great  many 
important  estimates.  They  finally  troubled  me  so  tljat  1 
drove  down  again  and  had  a  long  and  serious  talk  with 
Helen. 

What  we  said,  though  perfectly  proper  and  sensible, 
might  not  be  interesting  in  print,  so  I  omit  it.  I  will  say, 
however,  that  my  longing — when  I  first  saw  Helen  as  a  little 
girl — for  a  daughter  just  like  her,  has  been  fulfilled  so 
exactly,  that  I  have  named  her  Helen  Markson  Raines,  after 
her  mother ;  and  if  she  is  not  as  much  comfprt  to  me  as  I 
supposed  she  would  be,  it  is  no  fault  of  hers,  but  rather 
because  the  love  of  her  mother  makes  me,  twenty  years 
after  the  incidents  of  this  story  occurred,  so  constantly 
happy,  that  I  need  the  affection  of  no  one  else. 


GKUMPS  PET. 

ON  a  certain  day  in  November,  1850,  there  meandered  into 
the  new  mining  camp  of  Painter  Bar,  State  of  Califor- 
nia, an  individual  who  was  instantly  pronounced,  all  voices 
concurring,  the  ugliest  man  in  the  camp.  The  adjective  ugly 
was  applied  to  the  man's  physiognomy  alone  ;  but  time  soon 
gave  the  word,  as  applied  to  him,  a  far  wider  significance. 
In  fact,  the  word  was  not  at  all  equal  to  the  requirements 
made  of  it,  and  this  was  probably  what  influenced  the  pre- 
fixing of  numerous  adjectives,  sacred  and  profane,  to  this 
little  word  of  four  letters. 

The  individual  in  question  stated  that  he  came  from  "  no 
whar  in  pu'tiklar,"  and  the  savage,  furtive  glance  that  shot 
from  his  hyena-like  eyes  seemed  to  plainly  indicate  why  the 
land  of  his  origin  was  so  indefinitely  located.  A  badly 
broken  nose  failed  to  soften  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  a 
long,  prominent,  dull-red  scar  divided  one  of  his  cheeks,  his 
mustache  was  not  heavy  enough  to  hide  a  hideous  hare-lip ; 
while  a  ragged  beard,  and  a  head  of  stiff,  bristly  red  hair, 
formed  a  setting  which  intensified  rather  than  embellished 
the  peculiarities  we  have  noted. 

The  first  settlers,  who  seemed  quite  venerable  and  digni- 
fied, now  that  the  camp  was  nearly  a  fortnight  old,  were  in 
the  habit  of  extending  hospitality  to  all  newcomers  until 
these  latter  could  build  huts  for  themselves;  but  no  one 
hastened  to  invite  this  beauty  to  partake  of  cracker,  pork  and 
lodging-place,  and  he  finally  betook  himself  to  the  southerly 

194 


PAINTER  BAB  ATTAINS  TO  AN  OLD  CAMP.        195' 

side  of  a  large  rock,  against  which  he  placed  a  few  boughs 
to  break  the  wind. 

The  morning  after  his  arrival,  certain  men  missed  pro- 
visions, and  the  ugly  man  was  suspected ;  but  so  depressing, 
as  one  miner  mildly  put  it,  was  his  aspect  when  even  looked 
at  inquiringly,  that  the  bravest  of  the  boys  found  excuse  for 
not  asking  questions  of  the  suspected  man. 

"  Ain't  got  no  chum,"  suggested  Bozen,  an  ex-sailor,  one 
day,  after  the  crowd  had  done  considerable  staring  at  this- 
unpleasant  object ;  "  ain't  got  no  chum,  and's  lonesome — 
needs  cheerin'  up."  So  Bozen  philanthropically  staked  a- 
new  claim  near  the  stranger,  apart  from  the  main  party. 
The  next  morning  found  him  back  on  his  old  claim,  and 
volunteering  to  every  one  the  information  that  "  stranger's  a 
grump — a  reg'lar  grump."  From  that  time  forth  "  Grump" 
was  the  only  name  by  which  the  man  was  known. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  in  the  course  of  a  month  Painter 
Bar  was  mentioned  as  an  old  camp.  It  had  its  mining  rules, 
its  saloon,  blacksmith-shop,  and  faro-bank,  like  the  proudest 
camp  on  the  Run,  and  one  could  find  there  colonels,  judges,, 
doctors,  and  squires  by  the  dozen,  besides  one  deacon  and  a 
dominie  or  two. 

Still,  the  old  inhabitants  kept  an  open  eye  for  new- 
comers, and  displayed  an  open-hearted  friendliness  from 
whose  example  certain  Eastern  cities  might  profit. 

But  on  one  particular  afternoon,  the  estimable  reception 
committee  were  put  to  their  wit's  end.  They  were  enjoying 
their  otium  cum  dignitate  on  a  rude  bench  in  front  of  the 
saloon,  when  some  one  called  attention  to  an  unfamiliar 
form  which  leaned  against  a  stunted  tree  a  few  rods  off. 

It  was  of  a  short,  loose-jointed  young  man,  who  seemed 
so  thin  and  lean,  that  Black  Tom  ventured  the  opinion  that 
"  that  feller  had  better  hold  tight  to  the  groun',  ter  keep 
from  fallen'  upards."  His  eyes  were  colorless,  his  nose  was 
enormous,  his  mouth  hung  wide  open  and  then  shut  with  a 
twitch,  as  if  its  owner  were  eating  fli  es,  his  chin  seemed  to- 
have  been  entirely  forgotten,  and  his  thin  hair  was  in  color 
somewhere  between  sand  and  mud. 


196  SUBLIME  IGNORANCE, 

As  he  leaned -against  the  tree  he  afforded  a  fine  opportu- 
nity for  the  study  of  acute  and  obtuse  angles.  _His  neck, 
shoulders,  elbows,  wrists,  back,  knees  and  feet  all  described 
angles,  and  even  the  toes  of  his  shocking  boots  deflected 
from  the  horizontal  in  a  most  decided  manner. 

"  Somebody  ort  to  go  say  somethin'  to  him,"  said  the 
colonel,  who  was  recognized  as  leader  by  the  miners. 

"  Fact,  colonel,"  replied  one  of  the  men  ;  "  but  what's  a 
feller  to  say  to  sich  a  meanderin'  bone-yard  ez  that  ?  Might 
ask  him,  fur  perliteness  sake,  to  take  fust  pick  uv  lots  in  a 
new  buryin'  ground ;  but  then  Perkins  died  last  week,  yur 
know." 

"  Say  something  somebody,"  commanded  the  colonel,  and 
as  he  spoke  his  eyes  alighted  on  Slim  Sam,  who  obediently 
stepped  out  to  greet  the  newcomer. 

" Mister,"  said  Sam,  producing  a  plug  of  tobacco,  "hey 
a  chaw  ?" 

"I  don't  use  tobacco,"  languidly  replied  the  man,  and 
his  answer  was  so  unexpected  that  Sam  precipitately  re- 
tired. 

Then  Black  Tom  advanced,  and  pleasantly  asked  : 

'''  What's  yer  fav'rit  game,  stranger  ?" 

'"'  Blind  man's  buff,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"What's  that?"  inquired  Tom,  blushing  with  shame  at 
being  compelled  to  display  ignorance  about  games ;  "  any- 
thing like  going  it  blind  at  poker  ?" 

"Poker? — I  don't  know  what  that  is,"  replied  the  youth. 

"He's  from  the  country,"  said  the  colonel,  compassion- 
ately, "  an'  hesn't  hed  the  right  schoolin'.  P'r'aps,"  con- 
tinued the  colonel,  "  he'd  enjoy  the  cockfight  at  the  saloon 
to-night — these  country  boys  are  pretty  well  up  on  roosters. 
Ask  him,  Tom." 

Tom  put  the  question,  and  the  party,  in  deep  disgust, 
heard  the  man  reply  : 

"No,  thank  you;  I  think  it's  cruel  to  make,  the  poor 
birds  hurt  each  other." 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  good-natured  Bozen,  "  the  poor 
lubber's  all  gone  in  amidships — see  how  flat  his  breadbasket 


MIX,  FROM  PAWKIN   CENTRE.  197 

is.  I  say,  messmate,"  continued  Bozen,  with  a  roar,  and  a 
jerk  of  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder,  "  come  and  splice  the 
main-brace." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  answered  the  unreasonable  stranger ; 
"I  don't  drink." 

The  boys  looked  incredulously  at  each  other,  while  the 
colonel  arose  and  paced  the  front  of  the  saloon  two  or 
three  times,  looking  greatly  puzzled.  He  finally  stopped 
and  said : 

"  The  mizzable  rat  isn't  fit  to  be  out  uv  doors,  an'  needs 
takin'  keer  ov.  Come  here,  feller,"  called  the  colonel;  "be 
kinder  sociable — don't  stand  there  a  gawpin'  at  us  ez  ef  we 
wuz  a  menagerie." 

The  youth  approached  slowly,  stared  through  the  crowd, 
and  finally  asked : 

"  Is  there  any  one  here  from  Pawkin  Centre  ?" 

No  one  responded. 

"  Some  men  went  out  to  Californy  from  Pawkin  Centre, 
and  I  didn't  know  but  some  of  'em  was  here.  I  come  from 
ther'  myself — my  name's  Mix,"  the  youth  continued. 

"  Meanin'  no  disrespect  to  your  dad,"  said  the  colonel, 
"  Mr.  Mix,  Senior,  ortn't  to  hev  let  you  come  out  here — you 
ain't  strong  enough — you'll  git  fever  'n  ager  'fore  you've 
washed  dirt  half  a  day."  • 

"  I  ain't  got  no  dad,"  replied  the  stranger ;  "  leastways 
he  ran  away  ten  years  ago,  an'  mother  had  a  powerful  hard 
time  since,  a-bringin'  up  the  young  uns,  an'  we  thought  I 
might  help  along  a  big  sight  if  I  was  out  here." 

The  colonel  was  not  what  in  the  States  would  be  called 
a  prayer-meeting  man,  but  he  looked  steadily  at  the  young 
man,  and  inwardly  breathed  a  very  earnest  "  God  have 
mercy  on  you  all."  Then  he  came  back  to  the  more  im- 
mediate present,  and,  looking  about,  asked : 

"  Who's  got  sleepin'-room  for  this  young  man  ?" 

"  I  hev,"  quickly  answered  Grump,  who  had  approached, 
unnoticed,  while  the  newcomer  was  being  interviewed. 

Every  one  started,  and  Grump' s  countenance  did  not 


198  GETTING  THINGS  MIXED. 

gather   amiability   as   he   sneakingly  noticed   the   general 
distrust. 

"  Yer  needn't  glare  like  that,"  said  he,  savagely ;  "  I  sed 
it,  an'  I  mean  it.  Come  along,  youngster — it's  about  the 
time  I  generally  fry  my  pork." 

And  the  two  beauties  walked  away  together,  while  the 
crowd  stared  in  speechless  astonishment. 

"  He  won't  make  much  out  uv  that  boy,  that's  one  com- 
fort," said  Black  Tom,  who  had  partially  recovered  from  his 
wonder.  "You  ken  bet  yer  eye-teeth  that  his  pockets 
-wouldn't  pan  out  five  dollars." 

"  Then  what  does  he  want  uv  him  ?"  queried  Slim  Sam. 

"  Somethin'  mean  an'  underhand,  for  certain,"  said  the 
oolonel,  "and  the  boy  must  be  purtected.  And  I  hereby 
app'int  this  whole  crowd  to  keep  an  eye  on  Grump,  an'  see 
he  don't  make  a  slave  of  the  boy,  an'  don't  rob  him  of  dust. 
An'  I  reckon  I'll  take  one  of  yer  with  me,  an'  keep  watch  of 
the  old  rascal  to-night.  I  don't  trust  him  wuth  a-durn." 

That  night  the  boys  at  the  saloon  wrinkled  their  brows 
like  unto  an  impecunious  Committee  of  Ways  and  Means,  as 
they  vainly  endeavored  to  surmise  why  Grump  could  want 
that  young  man  as  a  lodger.  Men  who  pursued  wittling  as 
an  aid  to  reason  made  pecks  of  chips  and  shavings,  and 
were  no  nearer  a  solution  than  when  they  began. 

There  were  a  number  of  games  played,  but  so  great  was 
the  absentmindedness  of  the  players,  that  several  hardened 
scamps  indulged  in  some  most  unscrupulous  "  stocking  "  of 
the  cards  without  detection.  But  even  one  of  these,  after 
having  dealt  himself  both  bowers  and  the  king,  besides  two 
aces,  suddenly  imagined  he  had  discovered  Grump's  motive, 
and  so  earnest  was  he  in  exposing  that  nefarious  wretch, 
that  one  of  his  opponents  changed  hands  with  him.  Even 
the  barkeeper  mixed  the  bottles  badly,  and  on  one  occasion, 
just  as  the  boys  were  raising  their  glasses,  he  metaphorically 
dashed  the  cup  from  their  lips  by  a  violent,  "I  tell  you 
what,"  and  an  unsatisfactory  theory.  Finally  the  colonel 
arose. 


TWO  PISTOLS  BEARING  ON  GRUMP.  199 

"Boys,"  said  lie,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  whose  mind  is 
settled,  "  'tain't  'cos  the  youngster  looked  like  lively  com- 
p'ny,  fur  he  didn't.  'Taint  'cos  Grump  wanted  to  do  him  a 
good  turn,  fur  'tain't  his  style.  Cons'kently,  thar's  sum- 
thin'  wrong.  Tom,  I  reckon  I  take  you  along." 

And  Tom  and  the  colonel  departed. 

During  the  month  which  had  elapsed  since  his  advent, 
Grump  had  managed  to  build  him  a  hut  of  the  usual  mining 
pattern,  and  the  colonel  and  Tom  stealthily  examined  its 
walls,  front  and  rear,  until  they  found  crevices  which  would 
admit  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver,  should  it  be  necessary.  Then 
they  applied  their  eyes  to  the  same  cracks,  and  saw  the 
youth  asleep  on  a  pile  of  dead  grass,  with  Grump's  knapsack 
for  a  pillow,  and  one  of  Grump's  blankets  over  him.  Grump 
himself  was  sitting  on  a  fragment  of  stone,  staring  into  the 
fire,  with  his  face  in  his  hands. 

He  sat  so  long  that  the  worthy  colonel  began  to  feel  in- 
dignant ;  to  sit  in  a  cramped  position  on  the  outside  of  a 
house,  for  the  sake  of  abused  human  nature,  was  an  action 
more  praiseworthy  than  comfortable,  and  the  colonel  began 
to  feel  personally  aggrieved  at  Grump's  delay.  Besides, 
the  colonel  was  growing  thirsty. 

Suddenly  Grump  arose,  looked  down  at  the  sleeping  youth, 
and  then  knelt  beside  him.  The  colonel  briskly  brought 
his  pistol  to  bear  on  him,  and  with  great  satisfaction 
noted  that  Tom's  muzzle  occupied  a  crack  in  the  front  walls, 
and  that  he  himself  was  out  of  range. 

A  slight  tremor  seemed  to  run  through  the  sleeper ;  "  and 
no  wonder,"  said  the  colonel,  when  he  recounted  the  adven- 
ture to  the  boys  ;  "  anybody'd  shiver  to  hev  that  catamount 
glarin'  at  him." 

Grump  arose,  and  softly  went  to  a  corner  which  was 
hidden  by  the  chimney. 

"  Gone  for  his  knife,  I'll  bet,"  whispered  the  colonel  to 
himself.  "  I  hope  Tom  don't  spile  my  mad  by  firm'  fust." 

Grump  returned  to  view  ;  but  instead  of  a  knife,  he  bore 
another  blanket,  which  he  gently  spread  over  his  sleeping 


200  LITTLE   CHANCE  FOB  INQUEST  OB  FUNEBAL. 

guest,  then  lie  lay  down  beside  Mix  with  a  log  of  wood  for 
a  pillow. 

The  colonel  withdrew  his  pistol,  and  softly  muttered  to 
himself  a  dozen  or  two  enormous  oaths ;  then  he  arose, 
straightened  out  his  cramped  legs,  and  started  to  find  Tom. 
That  worthy  had  started  on  a  similar  errand,  and  on  meet- 
ing, the  two  stared  at  each  other  in  the  moonlight  as  blankly 
as  a  couple  of  well-preserved  mummies. 

"  S'pose  the  boys  '11  believe  us  ?"  whispered  the  colonel. 

"  We  ken  bring  'em  down  to  see  the  show  themselves,  ef 
they  don't,"  replied  Tom. 

The  colonel's  report  was  productive  of  the  choicest 
assortment  of  ejaculations  that  had  been  heard  in  camp 
since  Natchez,  the  leader  of  the  Yinegar  Gulch  Boys,  joined 
the  Church  and  commenced  preaching. 

The  good-natured  Bozen  was  for  drinking  Grump's 
health  at  once,  but  the  colonel  demurred.  So  did  Slim 
Sam. 

"  He's  goin'  to  make  him  work  on  sheers,  or  some  hocus- 
pocusin'  arrangement,  an'  he  can't  afford  to  hev  him  git  sick.. 
That's  what  his  kindness  amounts  to,"  said  Sam. 

"  Ur  go  fur  his  gratitude — and  dust,  when  he  gets  any," 
suggested  another,  and  no  one  repelled  the  insinuation. 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  there  was  but  little  chance 
of  either  inquest  or  funeral  from  Grump's,  and  the  crowd 
finally  dispersed  with  the  confirmed  assurance  that  there 
would  be  one  steady  cause  of  excitement  for  some  time  to 
come. 

Next  morning  young  Mix  staked  a  claim  adjoining 
Grump.  The  colonel  led  him  aside,  bound  him  to  secrecy, 
and  told  him  that  there  was  a  far  richer  dirt  further  down 
the  stream.  The  young  man  pointed  toward  the  hut,  and 
replied  : 

"  He  sed  'twas  payin'  dirt,  an'  I  ort  to  take  his  advice, 
seem'  he  giv  me  a  pick  an*  shovel  an'  pan — sed  he'd  hev  to  git 
new  ones  anyhow." 

"Thunder!"  ejaculated  the  colonel,  more  puzzled  than 


A.  MINER'S  PROPHESY.  201 

ever,  knowing  well  how  a  miner  will  cling  as  long  as  possible 
to  tools  with  which  he  is  acquainted. 

"  Jest  wait  till  that  boy  gets  a  bag  of  dust,"  said  a  miner, 
when  the  colonel  had  narrated  the  second  wonder.  "  The 
express  agent  '11  be  here  next  week  to  git  what  fellers  wants 
to  send  to  their  folks — the  boy'll  want  to  send  some  to  his'n 
— his  bag  '11  be  missin'  'bout  then — jist  wait,  and  ef  my 
words  don't  come  true,  call  me  greaser." 

The  colonel  pondered  over  the  prophecy,  and  finally  de- 
termined on  another  vigil  outside  Grump's  hut. 

Meanwhile,  Grump's  Pet,  as  Mix  had  been  nicknamed, 
afforded  the  camp  a  great  deal  of  amusement.  He  was  not 
at  all  reserved,  and  was  easily  drawn  out  on  the  subject  of 
his  protector,  of  whom  he  spoke  in  terms  of  unmeasured 
praise. 

"  By  the  piper  that  played  before  Moses,"  said  one  of 
the  boys  one  day,  "  ef  half  that  boy  sez  is  true,  some  day 
Grump  '11  hev  wings  sprout  through  his  shirt,  an'  '11  be  sit- 
tin'  on  the  sharp  edge  uv  a  cloud  an'  playin'  onto  a  harp,  jist 
like  the  other  angels." 

As  for  Grump  himself,  he  improved  so  much  that  suspi- 
cion was  half  disarmed  when  one  looked  at  him  ;  neverthe- 
less the  colonel  deemed  it  prudent  to  watch  the  Pet's  land- 
lord on  the  night  preceding  the  express  day. 

The  colonel  timed  himself  by  counting  the  games  of  old 
sledge  that  were  played.  At  the  end  of  the  sixth  game  after 
dark  he  made  his  way  to  Grump's  hut  and  quietly  located 
himself  at  the  same  crack  as  before. 

The  Pet  and  his  friend  were  both  lying  down,  but  by  the 
light  of  the  fire  the  colonel  could  see  the  eyes  of  the  former 
were  closed,  while  those  of  the  latter  were  wide  open.  The 
moments  flew  by,  and  still  the  two  men  remained  in  the  same 
positions,  the  Pet  apparently  fast  asleep,  and  Grump  wide 
awake. 

The  interior  of  a  miner's  hut,  though  displaying  great 
originality  of  design,  and  ingenious  artistic  effects,  becomes 
after  a  time  rather  a  tiresome  object  of  contemplation.  The 


202  ANOTHER  BEAD   ON   GRUMP. 

colonel  found  ifc  so,  and  lie  relieved  his  strained  eyes  by  an 
occasional  amateur  astronomical  observation.  On  turning 
his  head,  with  a  yawn,  from  one  of  these,  he  saw  inside  the 
hut  a  state  of  affairs  which  caused  him  to  feel  hurriedly  for 
his  pistol. 

Grump  had  risen  upon  one  elbow,  and  was  stealthily  feel- 
ing with  his  other  hand  under  the  Pet's  head. 

"  Ha  !"  thought  the  colonel ;  "  right  at  last." 

Slowly  Grump's  hand  emerged  from  beneath  the  Pet's 
head,  and  with  it  came  a  leather  bag  containing  gold 
dust. 

The  colonel  drew  a  perfect  bead  on  Grump's  temple. 

"  I'll  jest  wait  till  you're  stowin'  that  away,  my  golden- 
haired  beauty,"  said  the  colonel,  within  himself,  "  an'  then 
we'll  see  what  cold  lead's  got  to  say  about  it." 

Grump  untied  the  bag,  set  it  upon  his  own  pillow,  drew 
forth  his  own  pouch,  and  untied  it ;  the  colonel's  aim  re- 
mained true  to  its  unconscious  mark. 

"  Ef  that's  the  game,"  continued  the  colonel,  to  himself, 
"  I  reckon  the  proper  time  to  play  my  trump  is  just  when 
you're  a-pourin'  from  his  bag  into  your'n.  It  '11  be  ez  good's 
a  theatre,  to  bring  the  boys  up  to  see  how  'twas  done.  Lord  ! 
I  wish  he'd  hurry  up  !" 

Grump  placed  a  hand  upon  each  bag,  and  the  colonel 
felt  for  his  trigger.  Grump's  left  hand  opened  wide  the 
mouth  of  Pet's  bag,  and  his  right  hand  raised  his  own  ;  in  a 
moment  he  had  poured  out  all  his  own  gold  into  Pet's  bag, 
tied  it,  and  replaced  it  under  Pet's  head. 

The  colonel  retired  quietly  for  a  hundred  yards,  or  more, 
then  he  started  for  the  saloon  like  a  man  inspired  by  a  three- 
days'  thirst.  As  he  entered  the  saloon  the  crowd  arose. 

"  Any  feller  ken  say  I  lie,"  meekly  spoke  the  colonel, 
"  an'  I  won't  shoot,  /wouldn't  believe  it  ef  I  hedn't  seen  it 
with  my  own  eyes.  Grump's  poured  all  his  gold  into  the 
Pet's  pouch!" 

The  whole  party,  in  chorus,  condemned  their  optical  or- 
gans to  supernatural  warmth  ;  some,  more  energetic  than  the 


203 

rest,  signified  that  the  operation  should  extend  to  their  lungs 
and  lives.  But  the  doubter  of  the  party  again  spoke  : 

"Mind  yer,"  said  he,  " to-morrow  he'll  be  complainin' 
that  the  Pet  stole  it,  an'  then  he'll  claim  all  in  the  Pet's 
pouch." 

The  colonel  looked  doubtful ;  several  voices  expressed 
dissent ;  Bozen,  reviving  his  proposition  to  drink  to  Grump, 
found  opinion  about  equally  balanced,  but  conservative.  It 
was  agreed,  however,  that  all  the  boys  should  "  hang  around" 
the  express  agent  next  day,  and  should,  if  Grump  made  the 
Pet  any  trouble,  dispose  of  him  promptly,  and  give  the  Pet 
a  clear  title  to  all  of  Grump's  rights  and  properties. 

The  agent  came,  and  one  by  one  the  boys  deposited  their 
dust,  saw  it  weighed,  and  took  their  receipts.  Presently 
there  was  a  stir  near  the  door,  and  Grump  and  Pet  entered. 
Pet's  gold  was  weighed,  his  mother's  name  given,  and  a  re- 
ceipt tendered. 

"  Thinks  he's  goin'  to  hev  conviction  in  writin',"  whis- 
pered the  doubter  to  the  colonel. 

But  the  agent  finished  his  business,  took  the  stage,  and 
departed.  Grump  started  to  the  door  to  see  the  last  of  it. 
The  doubter  was  there  before  'him,  and  saw  a  big  tear  in  the 
corner  of  each  of  Grump's  eyes. 

##.#.#  ;;    #•.*'•« 

A  few  days  after  Grump  went  to  Placerville  for  a  new 
pick  for  the  Pet — the  old  one  was  too  heavy  for  a  light  man, 
Grump  said.  Pet  himself  felt  rather  lonesome  working  on 
his  neighbor's  claim,  so  he  sauntered  down  the  creek,  and 
got  a  kind  word  from  almost  every  man.  His  ridiculous 
anatomy  had  escaped  the  grave  so  long,  he  was  so  indus- 
trious and  so  inoffensive,  that  the  boys  began  to  have  a  sort 
of  affection  for  the  boy  who  had  come  so  far  to  "  help  the 
folks." 

Finally,  some  weak  miner,  unable  to  hold  the  open  secret 
any  longer,  told  the  Pet  about  Grump's  operation  in  dust. 
Great  was  the  astonishment  of  the  young  man,  and  puzzling 
miners  gained  sympathy  from  the  weak  eyes  and  open  mouth 


204  MR.  BROADY  TAKES  A  HAND. 

of  the  Pet  as  he  meandered  homeward,  evidently  as  much  at 
a  loss  as  themselves. 

Unlucky  was  the  spirit  which  prompted  Grump  in  the 
selection  of  his  claim !  It  was  just  beyond  a  small  bend 
which  the  Run  made,  and  was,  therefore,  out  of  sight  of  the- 
claims  of  the  other  men  belonging  to  the  camp.  Ancl  it  came 
to  pass  that  while  Pet  was  standing  on  his  own  claim,  lean- 
ing on  his  spade,  and  puzzling  his  feeble  brain,  there  came 
down  the  Bun  the  great  Broady,  chief  of  the  Jolly  Grass- 
hoppers, who  were  working  several  miles  above. 

Mr.  Broady  had  found  a  nugget  a  few  days  before,  and, 
in  his  exultation,  had  ceased  work  and  become  a  regular 
member  of  the  bar.  A  week's  industrious  drinking  devel- 
oped in  him  that  peculiar  amiability  and  humanity  which 
is  characteristic  of  cheap  whisky,  and  as  Pet  was  small,  uglyf 
and  alone,  Broady  commenced  working  off  on  him  his  own 
superfluous  energy. 

Poor  Pet's  resistance  only  increased  the  fury  of  Broady,. 
and  the  family  at  Pawkin  Centre  seemed  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  supported  by  the  town,  when  suddenly  a  pair  of 
enormous  stubby  hands  seized  Broady  by  the  throat,  and 
a  harsh  voice,  which  Pet  joyfully  recognized  as  Grump's,  ex- 
claimed : 

"Let  him  go,  or  I'll  tear  yer  into  mince-meat,  curse 
yer!" 

The  chief  of  the  Jolly  Grasshoppers  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  obeying  orders,  but  Grump's  hands  imparted  to  his  com- 
mand considerable  moral  force. 

No  sooner,  however,  had  Broady  extricated  himself  from 
Grump's  grasp  than  he  drew  his  revolver  and  fired.  Grump 
fell,  and  the  chief  of  the  Jolly  Grasshoppers,  his  injured 
dignity  made  whole,  walked  peacefully  away. 

The  sound  of  the  shot  brought  up  all  the  boys  from 
below. 

"  They've  fit !"  gasped  the  doubter,  catching  his  breatk 
as  he  ran,  "  an'  the  boy — boy's  hed  to — lay  him  out. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  doubter  might  be  right,  for  the  boys- 


"'CAUSE  I'M  YER  DAD."  205 

found  Grump  lying  on  the  ground  bleeding  badly,  and  the 
Pet  on  his  hands  and  knees. 

"  How  did  it  come  'bout  ?"  asked  the  colonel  of  Pet. 

"  Broady  done  it,"  replied  Grump,  in  a  hoarse  whisper  ; 
"  he  pounded  the  boy,  and  I  tackled  him — then  he  fired." 

The  doubter  went  around  and  raised  the  dying  man's 
head.  Pet  seemed  collecting  all  his  energies  for  some  great 
effort ;  finally  he  asked  : 

"  What  made  you  pour  your  dust  into  my  pouch  ?" 

"'Cause,"  whispered  the  dying  man,  putting  one  arm 
about  Pet's  neck,  and  drawing  him  closer,  "  'cause  Pm  yer 
dad;  give  this  to  yer  mar,"  and  on  Pet's  homely  face  the 
ugliest  man  at  Painter  Bar  put  the  first  token  of  human 
affection  ever  displayed  in  that  neighborhood. 

The  arm  relaxed  its  grasp  and  fell  loosely,  and  the  red 
eyes  closed.  The  experienced  colonel  gazed  into  the  up- 
turned face,  and  gently  said  : 

"  Pet,  yer  an  orphan." 

Reverently  the  boys  carried  the  dead  man  into  his  own 
hut.  Several  men  dug  a  grave  beside  that  of  Perkins,  while 
the  colonel  and  doubter  acted  as  undertakers,  the  latter 
donating  his  only  white  shirt  for  a  shroud. 

This  duty  done,  they  went  to  the  saloon,  and  the  doubter 
called  up  the  crowd.  The  glasses  filled,  the  doubter  raised 
his  own>  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Boys,  here's  corpse — corpse  is  the  best-looking  man  in 
camp." 

And  so  he  was.  For  the  first  time  in  his  wretched  life  his 
soul  had  reached  his  face,  and  the  Judge  mercifully  took 
him  while  he  was  yet  in  His  own  image. 

The  body  was  placed  in  a  rude  coffin,  and  borne  to  the 
grave  on  a  litter  of  spades,  followed  by  every  man  in  camp, 
the  colonel  supporting  the  only  family  mourner.  Each  man 
threw  a  shovelful  of  dirt  upon  the  coffin  before  the  filling 
began.  As  the  last  of  the  surface  of  the  coffin  disappeared 
from  view,  Pet  raised  a  loud  cry  and  wept  bitterly,  at  which 
operation  he  was  joined  by  ijie  whole  party. 


WARDELOW'S    BOY. 

"VTEW  Boston  has  once  been  the  most  promising  of  the 
Jj|  growing  cities  of  the  West,  according  to  some  New  York 
gentleman  who  constituted  a  land  improvement  company,, 
distributed  handsome  maps  gratis,  and  courted  susceptible 
Eastern  editors.  Its  water-power  was  unrivaled ;  ground  for 
all  desirable  public  buildings,  and  for  a  handsome  park  with 
ready-grown  trees  and  a  natural  lake,  had  been  securely  pro- 
vided for  by  the  terms  of  the  company's  charter ;  building 
material  abounded ;  the  water  was  good ;  the  soil  of  un- 
equaled  fertility ;  while  the  company,  with  admirable  fore- 
thought, had  a  well-stocked  store  on  the  ground,  and  had 
made  arrangements  to  send  to  the  town  a  skillful  physician 
and  a  popular  preacher. 

A  reasonable  number  of  colonists  found  their  way  to  the 
ground  in  the  pleasant  Spring  time,  and,  in  spite  of  sundry 
local  peculiarities  not  mentioned  in  the  company's  circular, 
they  might  have  remained,  had  not  a  mighty  freshet,  in  June,, 
driven  them  away,  and  even  saved  some  of  them  the  trouble 
of  moving  their  houses. 

When,  however,  most  of  the  residences  floated  down  the 
river,  some  of  them  bearing  their  owners  on  their  roofs,  such 
of  the  inhabitants  as  had  money  left  the  promised  land  for 
ever ;  while  the  others  made  themselves  such  homes  as  they 
could  in  the  nearest  settlements  which  were  above  water,, 
and  fraternized  with  the  natives  through  the  medium  of  that 
common  bond  of  sympathy  in  the  Western  lowlands,  the 
ague.  * 

206 


A   SMALL  BOY  WANTED.  207 

Only  a  single  one  of  the  original  inhabitants  remained, 
and  he,  although  he  might  have  chosen  the  best  of  the  aban- 
doned houses  for  his  residence,  or  even  the  elegant  but  de- 
serted "  company's  store,"  continued  to  inhabit  the  cabin  he 
had  built  upon  his  arrival.  The  solid  business  men  of  the 
neighboring  town  of  Mount  Pisgah,  situated  upon  a  bluff, 
voted  him  a  fool  whenever  his  name  was  mentioned  ;  but  the 
wives  of  these  same  men,  when  they  chanced  to  see  old 
Wardelow  passing  by,  with  the  wistful  face  he  always  wore, 
looked  after  him  tenderly,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  to 
speak  to  him  kindly.  When  they  met  at  tea-parties,  or  quilt- 
ing-bees,  or  sewing-societies,  or  in  other  gatherings  exclu- 
sively feminine,  there  were  not  a  few  of  them  who  had  the 
courage  to  say  that  the  world  would  be  better  if  more  men 
were  like  old  Wardelow. 

For  love  seemed  the  sole  motive  of  old  Wardelow's  life- 
The  cemetery  which  the  thoughtful  projectors  of  New  Boston 
had  presented  to  the  inhabitants  had  for  its  only  occupant 
the  wife  of  old  Wardelow ;  and  she  had  been  conveyed  thereto 
by  a  husband  who  was  both  young  and  handsome.  The 
freshet  which  had,  soon  afterward,  swept  the  town,  had  car- 
ried with  it  Wardelow's  only  child,  a  boy  of  seven  years,  who 
had  been  playing  in  a  boat  which  he,  in  some  way,  unloosed. 

From  that  day  the  father  had  found  no  trace  of  his  child, 
yet  he  never  ceased  hoping  for  his  return.  Every  steamboat 
captain  on  the  river  knew  the  old  man,  and  the  roughest  of 
them  had  cheerfuly  replied  in  the  affirmative  when  asked  if 
they  wouldn't  bring  up  a  small  boy  who  might  some  day 
come  on  board,  report  himself  as  Stevie  Wardelow,  and  ask 
to  be  taken  to  New  Boston. 

Almost  every  steamboat  man,  from  captain  and  pilot  down 
to  fireman  and  roustabout,  carried  and  posted  Wardelow's 
circulars  wherever  they  went — up  Red  River,  the  Yazoo, 
the  White,  the  Arkansas,  the  Missouri,  and  all  the  smaller 
tributaries  of  the  Mississippi. 

New  Boston  had  long  been  dropped  from  the  list  of  post- 
towns,  but  every  cross-road  for  miles  around  had  a  finger- 


208  GUIDEBOARDS    &OME. 

board  showing  the  direction  and  telling  the  distance  to  New 
Boston.  Upon  a  tall  cottonwood-tree  on  the  river-bank* 
and  nearly  in  front  of  Wardelow's  residence,  was  an  im- 
mense signboard  bearing  the  name  of  "  New  Boston  Land- 
ing," and  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  at  a  ferry-staging 
belonging  to  a  crossing  whose  other  terminus  was  a  mile  fur- 
ther down  the  river,  was  a  sign  which  informed  travelers  that 
persons  wishing  to  go  to  New  Boston  would  find  a  skiff 
marked  "  Wardelow  "  tied  near  the  staging. 

The  old  man  never  went  to  Mount  Pisgah  for  stores,  or 
up  the  river  to  fish,  or  even  into  his  own  cornfield  and  gar- 
den, without  affixing  to  his  door  a  placard  telling  where  he 
had  gone  and  when  he  would  return. 

"When  he  went  to  the  cemetery,  which  he  frequently  did* 
a  statement  to  that  effect,  and  a  plan  showing  the  route  to  and 
through  the  cemetery,  was  always  appended  to  his  door,  and, 
as  he  could  never  clearly  imagine  his  boy  as  having  passed 
the  childhood  in  which  he  had  last  seen  him,  all  the  sign- 
boards, placards,  and  circulars  were  in  large  capital  letters. 

Even  when  the  river  overflowed  its  banks,  which  it  did 
nearly  every  Spring,  the  old  man  did  not  leave  his  house. 
He  would  not  have  another  story  built  upon  it,  as  he  was 
advised  to  do,  lest  Stevie  might  fail  to  recognize  it  on  his  re- 
turn ;  but,  after  careful  study,  he  had  the  house  raised  until 
the  foundation  was  above  high-water  mark,  and  then  had  the 
ground  made  higher,  but  sloped  so  gradually  that  the  boy 
could  not  notice  the  change. 

When  one  after  another  of  the  city's  "  plots,"  upon  which 
deserted  houses  stood,  were  sold  for  default  in  payment  of 
taxes,  old  Wardelow  bought  them  himself — they  always  went 
for  a  song,  and  the  old  man  preferred  to  own  them,  lest  some 
one  else  might  destroy  the  ruins,  and  thus  make  the  place 
unfamiliar  to  the  returning  wanderer. 

Of  friends  he  had  almost  none.  Although  he  was  intel- 
ligent, industrious,  ingenious,  and  owned  a  library  which 
passed  for  quite  a  large  one  in  those  days  and  in  the  new 
West,  he  cared  to  talk  on  only  one  subject,  and  as  that  was 


THE  OLD  MAN  NEVER  LEFT  HIS  HOUSE  WITHOUT  AFFIXING  TO  HIS  DOOR  A  PLACARD 
TELLING  WHERE  HE  HAD  GONE  AND  WHEN  HE  WOULD  RETURN. 

209  U 


A  BEAUTIFUL  CHARACTER.  211 

of  no  particular  interest  to  other  people,  and  became,  in  the 
course  of  time,  extremely  stale  to  those  who  did  not  like  it, 
the  people  of  Mount  Pisgah  and  the  adjoining  country  did 
not  spend  more  time  upon  old  Wardelow  than  was  required 
by  the  necessities  of  business. 

There  were  a  few  exceptions  to  this  rule.  Old  Mrs.  Perry, 
who  passed  for  a  saint,  and  whose  life  did  not  belie  her 
reputation,  used  to  drive  her  old  pony  up  to  New  Boston 
about  once  a  month,  carrying  some  home-made  delicacy 
with  her,  and  chatting  sympathetically  for  an  hour  or  two. 

Among  the  Mount  Pisgah  merchants  there  was  one — who 
had  never  had  a  child  of  his  own — who  always  pressed  the 
old  man's  hand  warmly,  and  admitted  the  possibility  of 
whatever  new  hope  Wardelow  might  express. 

The  pastors  of  the  several  churches  at  Mount  Pisgah,. 
however  much  they  disagreed  on  doctrinal  points,  were  in 
perfect  accord  as  to  the  beauty  of  a  character  which  was  so- 
completely  under  the  control  of  a  noble  principle  that  had  no 
promise  of  money  in  it ;  most  of  them,  therefore,  paid  the 
old  man  professional  visits,  from  which  they  generally  re- 
turned with  more  benefit  than  they  had  conferred. 

Time  had  rolled  on  as  usual,  in  spite  of  Wardelow's  great 
sorrow.  The  Mexican  war  was  just  breaking  out  when  New 
Boston  was  settled,  and  Wardelow's  hair  was  black,  and 
Mount  Pisgah  was  a  little  cluster  of  log  huts  ;  but  when  Lin- 
coln was  elected,  Wardelow  had  been  gray  and  called  old  for 
nearly  ten  years,  and  Mount  Pisgah  had  quite  a  number  of 
two-story  residences  and  brick  stores,  and  was  a  county 
town,  with  court-house  and  jail  all  complete. 

None  of  the  railway  lines  projected  toward  and  through 
Mount  Pisgah  had  been  completed,  however,  nor  had  the 
town  telegraphic  communication  with  anywhere;  so,  com- 
pared with  localities  enjoying  the  higher  benefits  of  civiliza- 
tion, Mount  Pisgah  and  its  surroundings  constituted  quite  a 
paradise  for  horse-thieves. 

There  were  still  sparsely  settled  places,  too,  which 
needed  the  ministrations  of  the  Methodist  circuit-rider. 


212  A  SERMON  IN  BRIEF. 

The  young  man  who  had  been  sent  by  the  Southern 
Illinois  Conference  to  preach  the  Word  on  the  Mount  Pisgah 
circuit  was  great-hearted  and  impetuous,  and  tremendously 
in  earnest  in  all  that  he  did  or  said ;  but,  like  all  such  men, 
he  paid  the  penalty  of  being  in  advance  of  his  day  and  gen- 
eration by  suffering  some  terrible  fits  of  depression  over  the 
small  results  of  his  labor. 

And  so,  following  the  example  of  most  of  his  predeces- 
sors on  the  Mount  Pisgah  circuit,  he  paid  many  a  visit  to 
old  Wardelow,  to  learn  strength  from  this  perfect  example  of 
patient  faith. 

As  the  circuit-rider  left  the  old  man  one  evening,  and 
sought  his  faithful  horse  in  the  deserted  barn  in  which  he 
had  tied  him,  he  was  somewhat  astonished  to  find  the  horse 
unloosed,  and  another  man  quietly  leading  him  away. 

-  Courage  and  decision  being  among  the  qualities  which 
are  natural  to  the  successful  circuit-rider,  he  sprang  at  the 
thief  and  knocked  him  down.  The  operator  in  horse-flesh 
speedily  regained  his  feet,  however,  and  as  he  closed  with 
the  preacher  the  latter  saw,  under  the  starlight,  the  gleam 
of  a  knife. 

Commending  himself  to  the  Lord,  he  made  such  vigorous 
efforts  for  the  safety  of  his  body  that,  within  two  or  three 
moments,  he  had  the  thief  face  downward  on  the  ground,  his 
own  knee  on  the  thief's  back,  one  hand  upon  the  thief's 
neck,  and  in  his  other  hand  the  thief's  knife.  Then  the  cir- 
cuit-rider delivered  a  short  address. 

"  My  sinful  friend,"  said  he,  "  when  two  men  get  into 
such  a  scrape  as  this,  and  one  of  them  is  in  your  line  of 
business,  one  or  the  other  will  have  to  die,  and  I  don't  pro- 
pose to  be  the  one.  I  haven't  finished  the  work  which  the 
Master  has  given  me  to  do.  If  you've  any  dying  messages 
to  send  to  anybody,  I  give  you  my  word  as  a  preacher  that 
they  shall  be  delivered,  but  you  must  speak  quick.  What's 
your  name  ?" 

"I'll  give  you  five  hundred  dollars  to  let  me  off— you 
may  holler  for  help  and  tie  my  hand,  and "  x 


A  FIGHTING  PREACHER.  213 

"No  use — speak  quick,"  hissed  the  preacher — "  what's 
your  name  ?" 

"  Stephen  Wardelow,"  gasped  the  thief. 

"  What !"  roared  the  preacher,  loosening  his  grasp,  but 
instantly  tightening  it  again. 

"  Stephen  Wardelow,"  replied  the  thief.  "  But  I  haven't 
got  any  messages  to  send  to  anybody.  I  haven't  a  relative 
in  the  world,  and  nobody  would  care  if  I  was  dead.  I  might 
as  well  go  now  as  any  time.  Hit  square  when  yo  do  let  me 
have  it— that's  all!"' 

"Where's  your  parents?"  asked  the  preacher. 

"Dead,  I  reckon,"  the  thief  answered.  "Leastways,  I 
know  mother  is,  and  dad  lived  in  a  fever  an'  aguerish  place, 
an'  I  s'pose  he's  gone,  too,  before  this." 

"Where  did  he  live?" 

"I  don't  know — some  new  settlement  somewheres  in 
Illinois.  I  got  lost  in  the  river  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  an' 
was  picked  up  by  a  tradin'-boat  an'  sold  for  a  nearly-white 
nigger — I  s'pose  I  ivas  pretty  dark." 

There  was  a  silence  ;  the  captive  lay  perfectly  quiet,  as  if 
expecting  the  fatal  blow.  Suddenly  a  voice  was  heard  : 

"  Not  wishin'  to  interfere  in  a  fair  fight — it's  me,  parson, 
Sheriff  Peters — not  wishin'  to  interfere  in  a  fair  fight,  I've 
been  a-lookin'  on  here,  where  I'd  tracked  the  thief  myself, 
and  would  have  grabbed  him  if  you  hadn't  been  about  half 
a  minute  ahead  of  me.  And  if  you  want  to  know  my  honest 
opinion — my  professional  opinion — it's  just  this  :  There  was 
stuff  for  a  splendid  sheriff  spiled  when  you  went  a-preachin'. 
How  you'd  get  along  when  it  come  to  collectin'  taxes,  I  don't 
know,  never  haviii'  been  at  any  meetin'  where  you  took  up  a 
collection ;  but  when  it  come  to  an  arrest,  you'd  be  just 
chain -lightning  ground  down  to  a  pint.  The  pris'ner's 
yours,  and  so's  all  the  rewards  that's  offered  for  him,  though 
they're  not  offered  for  a  man  of  the  name  he  gives.  But 
honest,  now,  don't  you  think  there's  a  chance  of  mitigatin' 
circumstances  in  his  case  ?  Let's  talk  it  over — I'll  help  you 
tie  him  so  he  can't  slip  you." 


214  AN  ASTONISHED   SON. 

The  sheriff  lighted  a  pocket-lantern  and  placed  it  in  a 
window-frame  behind  him,  then  he  tied  the  prisoner's  feet 
and  legs  in  several  places,  tied  his  hands  behind  his  back, 
sat  him  upon  the  ground  with  his  face  toward  the  door, 
cocked  a  pistol,  and  then  beckoned  the  preacher  toward  a 
corner.  The  sheriff  opened  his  pocketbook  and  took  out  a 
paper,  whispering  as  he  did  so : 

"  I've  carried  this  as  a  sort  of  a  curiosity,  but  it  may 
•come  in  handy  now.  Let's  see — confound  it ! — the  poor  old 
fellow  is  describing  the  child  just  as  it  was  fifteen  years  ago. 
Oh,  here's  a  point  or  two ! — '  brown  eyes,  black  hair  ' — oh, 
T3ully !  here's  the  best  thing  yet ! — '  first  joint  of  the  left  fore- 
finger gone.' ' 

The  sheriff  snatched  the  light,  and  both  men  hastened  to 
examine  the  prisoner's  hand.     After  a  single  glance  their 
eyes  met  and  each  set  of  optics  inquired  of  the  other. 
At  length  the  sheriff  remarked  : 
"He's  your  pris'ner." 

The  circuit-rider  flushed  and  then  turned  pale.  He  took 
the  lantern  from  the  sheriff,  turned  the  light  full  on  the  pris- 
oner's face,  and  said  : 

"Prisoner,  suppose  you  were  to  find  that  your  father 
was  alive?" 

The  horse-thief  replied  with  a  piercing  glance,  which 
-was  full  of  wonder,  but  said  not  a  word.  A  moment  or  two 
passed,  and  the  preacher  said : 

"  Suppose  you  were  to  find  that  your  father  was  alive, 
and  had  searched  everywhere  for  you,  and  that  he  thought 
of  nothing  but  you,  and  was  all  the  time  hoping  for  your 
return — that  he  had  grown  old  before  his  time,  all  because 
of  his  longing  and  sorrow  for  you?"  The  thief  dropped 
his  eyes,  then  his  face  twitched ;  at  last  he  burst  out  crying. 
"  Your  father  is  alive ;  he  isn't  far  from  this  cabin ;  he's 
very  sick ;  I've  just  left  him.  Nothing  but  the  sight  of  you 
will  do  him  any  good ;  but  I  think  so  much  of  him  that  I'd 
rather  kill  you  this  instant  than  let  him  know  what  business 
you've  been  in." 


CONDITIONAL   SURRENDER.  215 

"  Them's  my  sentiments,  too,"  remarked  the  sheriff. 

"  Let  me  see  him  !"  exclaimed  the  prisoner,  clasping  and 
raising  his  manacled  hands,  while  his  face  filled  with  an 
earnestness  which  was  literally  terrible — "  let  me  see  him, 
if  it's  only  for  a  few  minutes !  You  needn't  be  afraid  that 
PR  tell  him  what  I  am,  and  you  won't  be  mean  enough  to 
do  it,  if  I  don't  try  to  run  away.  Have  mercy  on  me! 
You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  never  have  had  anybody  to 
love  you,  and  then  suddenly  to  find  that  there  is  some  one 
that  wants  you!" 

The  preacher  turned  to  the  officer  and  said : 

"I'm  a  law-abiding  citizen,  sheriff." 

And  the  sheriff  replied  : 

"  He's  your  pris'ner." 

"  Then  suppose  I  let  him  go,  on  his  promise  to  stick  to 
his  father  for  the  rest  of  his  life !" 

"He  s  your  pris'ner,"  repeated  the  sheriff. 

"  Suppose,  then,  I  were  to  insist  upon  your  taking  him 
into  custody." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  the  sheriff,  speaking  like  a  man  in  the 
depths  of  meditation,  "  I  would  let  him  go  myself,  and — and 
I'd  have  to  shoot  you  to  save  my  reputation  as  a  faithful 
officer." 

The  preacher  made  a  peculiar  face.  The  prisoner 
exclaimed : 

"  Hurry,  you  brutes !" 

The  preacher  said,  at  last : 
'  Let  him  loose." 

The  sheriff  removed  the  handcuffs,  dived  into  his  own 
pocket,  brought  out  a  pocket-comb  and  glass,  and  handed 
them  to  the  thief;  then  he  placed  the  lantern  in  front  of 
him,  and  said : 

"  Fix  yourself  up  a  little.  Your  hat's  a  miz'able  one — 
I'll  swap  with  you.  You've  got  to  make  up  some  cock-and- 
bull  story  now,  for  the  old  man' 11  want  to  know  everything. 
You  might  say  you'd  been  a  sheriff  down  South  somewhere 
since  you  got  away  from  the  feller  that  owned  you." 


216  CIRCUIT-RIDER    VERSUS  SHERIFF. 

The  preacher  paused  over  a  knot  in  one  of  the  cords  on 
the  prisoner's  legs,  and  said  : 

"Say  you  were  a  circuit-rider — that's  more  near  the 
literal  truth." 

The  sheriff  seemed  to  demur  somewhat,  and  he  said,  at 
length : 

"Without  meanin'  any  disrespect,  parson,  don't  you 
think  'twould  tickle  the  old  man  and  the  citizens  more  to 
think  he'd  been  a  sheriff?  They  wouldn't  dare  to  ask  him 
so  many  questions  then,  either.  And  it  might  be  onhandy 
for  him  if  he  was  asked  to  preach,  while  a  smart  horse-thief 
has  naturally  got  some  of  the  p'ints  of  a  real  sheriff  about 
him." 

"You  insist  upon  it  that  he's  my  prisoner,"  said  the 
preacher,  tugging  away  at  his  knot,  "  and  I  insist  upon  the 
circuit-rider  story.  And,"  continued  the  young  man,  with 
one  mighty  pull  at  the  knot,  "  he's  got  to  be  a  circuit-rider, 
and  I'm  going  to  make  one  of  him.  Do  you  hear  that, 
young  man?  I'm  the  man  that's  setting  you  free  and  giv- 
ing you  to  your  father  !" 

"You  can  make  anything  you  please  out  of  me,"  said  the 
prisoner.  "  Only  hurry  !" 

"  As  you  say,  parson,"  remarked  the  sheriff,  with  admira- 
ble meekness;  "he's  your  prisoner,  but  I  could  make  a 
splendid  deputy  out  of  him  if  you'd  let  him  take  my  advice. 
And  I'd  agree  to  work  for  his  nomination  for  my  place  when 
my  term  runs  out.  Think  of  what  he  might  get  to  be ! — 
there  has  sheriffs  gone  to  the  Legislature,  and  I've  heard  of 
one  that  wenc  to  Congress." 

"Circuit-riders  get  higher  than  that,  sometimes,"  said 
the  preacher,  leading  his  prisoner  toward  old  Wardelow's 
cabin ;  "  they  get  as  high  as  heaven !" 

"  Oh  !"  remarked  the  sheriff,  and  gave  up  the  contest. 

Both  men  accompanied  the  prisoner  toward  his  father's 
house.  The  preacher  began  to  deliver  some  cautionary 
remarks,  but  the  young  man  burst  from  him,  threw  open 
the  door,  and  shouted : 


THE  SHERIFF  SUSPECTED.  217 

"Father!" 

The  old  man  started  from  his  bed,  shaded  his  eyes,  and 
exclaimed : 

"  Stevie !" 

The  father  and  son  embraced,  seeing  which  the  sheriff 
proved  that  even  sheriffs  are  human  by  snatching  the  cir- 
cuit-rider in  his  arms  and  giving  him  a  mighty  hug. 

#  -K  #'..#.-       v  #  *  •* 

The  father  recovered  and  lived  happily.  The  son  and  the 
preacher  fulfilled  their  respective  promises,  and  the  sheriff, 
always,  on  meeting  either  of  them,  so  abounded  in  genial 
winks  and  effusive  handshakings,  that  he  nearly  lost  his 
next  election  by  being  suspected  of  having  become  religious 
himself. 


TOM    CHAFFLIN'S    LUCK 

Why,  I  never  seed  anything  like  it!  Yer 
JJ  might  give  him  the  sweepin's  of  a  saloon  to  wash,  an' 
he'd  pan  out  a  nugget  ev'ry  time — do  it  ez  shure  as 
shootin' !" 

This  rather  emphatic  speech  proceeded  one  day  from  the 
lips  of  Cairo  Jake,  an  industrious  washer  of  the  golden  sands 
of  California  ;  but  it  was  evident  to  all  intelligent  observers 
that  even  language  so  strong  as  to  seem  almost  figurative  did 
not  fully  express  Cairo  Jake's  conviction,  for  he  shook  his 
head  so  positively  that  his  hat  fell  off  into  the  stream, 
which  found  a  level  only  an  inch  or  two  below  Jacob's  boot- 
tops,  and  he  stamped  his  right  foot  so  vigorously  as  to  en- 
danger his  equilibrium. 

"  Well,"  sighed  a  discontented  miner  from  New  Jersey, 
"  Providence  knows  His  own  bizness  best,  I  s'pose  ;  but  I 
could  have  found  him  a  feller  that  could  have  made  a  darn 
sight  better  use  of  his  good  luck — ef  he'd  had  any — than 
Tom  Chafflin.  He  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  the  worth  of 
money — never  seed  him  drunk  in  my  life,  an'  he  don't  seem 
to  get  no  fun  out  of  keerds." 

"  Providence  '11  hev  a  season's  job  a-satisfyin'  you,  old 
Eedbank,"  replied  Cairo  Jake  ;  "  but  it's  all-fired  queer,  for 
all  that.  Ef  a  feller  could  only  learn  how  he  done  it, 
'twouldn't  seem  so  funny  ;  but  he  don't  seem  to  have  no  way 
in  p'tickler  about  him  that  a  feller  ken  find  out." 

"  Fact,"  said  Eedbank,  with  a  solemn  groan.  "  I've 
studied  his  face — why,  ef  I'd  studied  half  ez  hard  at  school 

218 


SOME  FOLKS'  LUCK.  219 

I'd  be  a  president,  or  missionary,  or  somethin'  now — but  I 
don't  make  it  out.  Once  I  'llowed  'twas  cos  he  didn't  keer, 
an'  was  kind  o'  reckless — sort  o'  went  it  blind.  So  I  tried  it 
on  a-playin'  monte." 

"Well,  how  did  it  work?"  asked  the  gentleman  from  Cairo. 

"  Work  ?"  echoed  the  Jerseyman,  with  the  air  of  an  un- 
successful candidate  musing  over  the  "  saddest  words  of 
thought  or  pen ;"  "I  started  with  thirteen  ounces,  an'  in 
twenty  minutes  I  was  borryin'  the  price  of  a  drink  from  the 
dealer.  That's  how  it  worked." 

Certain  other  miners  looked  sorrowful ;  it  was  evident 
that  they,  too,  had  been  reckless,  and  had  trusted  to  luck, 
and  that  in  a  place  where  gold-digging  and  gambling  were 
the  only  two  means  of  proving  the  correctness  of  their  theory } 
it  was  not  difficult  to  imagine  by  wrhich  one  they  were  dis- 
appointed. 

"  Long  an'  short  of  it's  jest  this,"  resumed  Cairo  Jake, 
straightening  himself  for  a  moment,  and  picking  some  coarse 
gravel  from  his  pan,  "  Tom  Chafflin's  always  in  luck.  His 
claim  pays  better'n  anybody  else's  ;  he  always  gets  the  lucky 
number  at  a  raffle,  his  shovel  don't  never  break,  an'  his 
chimbly  ain't  always  catchin'  a-fire.  He's  gone  down  to 
'Frisco  now,  an'  I'll  bet  a  dozen  ounces  that  jest  cos  he's 
aboard,  the  old  boat  '11  go  down  an'  back  without  runnin' 
aground  a  solitary  durned  time." 

No  one  took  up  Cairo  Jake's  bet,  so  that  it  was  evident 
he  uttered  the  general  sentiment  of  the  mining  camp  of 
Quicksilver  Bar. 

Every  man,  in  the  temporary  silence  which  followed 
Jake's  summary,  again  bent  industriously  over  his  pan,  until 
the  scene  suggested  an  amateur  water-cure  establishment  re- 
turning thanks  for  basins  of  gruel,  when  suddenly  the  whole 
line  was  startled  into  suspension  of  labor  by  the  appearance 
of  London  George,  who  was  waving  his  hat  with  one  hand  and 
a  red  silk  handkerchief  with  the  other,  while  with  his  left  foot 
ne  was  performing  certain  pas  not  necessary  to  successful 
pedestrianism. 


220  EFFOKTS   TO   KEEP   BKITON   FROM  FEELIN'  BAD. 

"  Quicksilver  Bar  hain't  up  to  snuff — oh,  no !  Ain't  & 
catchin'  up  with  'Frisco — not  at  all !  Little  Chestnut  don't 
know  how  to  run  a  saloon,  an'  make  other  shops  weep — not 
in  the  least — not  at  all — oh,  no !" 

"  Eh  ?"  inquired  half  a  dozen. 

"Don't  b'leeve  me  if  you  don't  want  to,  but  just  bet 
against  it  'fore  you  go  to  see — that's  all !"  continued  London 
George,  fanning  himself  with  his  hat. 

"  George,"  said  Judge  Baggs,  with  considerable  asperity,. 
'*  ef  you  are  an  Englishman,  try  to  speak  your  native  tonguer 
an'  explain  what  you  mean  by  actin'  ez  ef  you'd  jes'  broke 
out  of  a  lunatic  'sylum.  Speak  quick,  or  I'll  fine  you  drinks 
for  the  crowd." 

"  Just  as  lieve  you  would,"  said  the  unabashed  Briton^ 
"  seein' — seein'  Chestnut's  got  a  female — a  woman — a  lady 
cashier — there !  Guess  them  San  Francisco  saloons  ain't 
the  only  ones  that  knows  what's  what — not  any !" 

"  I  don't  b'leeve  a  word  of  it,"  said  the  judge,  washing 
his  hands  rather  hastily ;  "  but  I'll  jest  see  for  myself." 

Cairo  Jake  looked  thoughtfully  on  the  retreating  form  of 
the  judge,  and  remarked  : 

"  He'll  feel  ashamed  of  hisself  when  he  gits  thar  an'  finds 
he'll  hev  to  drink  alone.  Reckon  I'll  go  up,  jest  to  keep  him 
from  feelin'  bad." 

Several  others  seemed  impressed  by  the  same  idea,  and 
moved  quite  briskly  in  the  direction  of  Chestnut's  saloon. 

The  judge,  protected  by  his  age  and  a  pair  of  green  spec- 
tacles, boldly  entered,  while  his  followers  dispersed  them- 
selves sheepishly  just  outside  the  open  door,  past  which 
they  marched  and  re-marched  as  industriously  as  a  lot  of 
special  sentries. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it.  Chestnut  had  installed  a 
lady  at  the  end  of  the  bar,  and  as,  between  breakfast  and 
dinner,  there  was  but  little  business  done  at  the  saloon,  the 
lady  was  amusing  herself  by  weighing  corks  and  pebbles  in 
the  tiny  scales  which  were  to  weigh  the  metallic  equivalent 
for  refreshments. 


THE  NEW  BECEIVER  OP  TKEASUEE.  221 

The  judge  contemplated  the  arrangements  with  consider- 
able satisfaction,  and  immediately  called  up  all  thirsty  souls 
present. 

Those  outside  the  door  entered  with  the  caution  of  vet- 
erans in  an  enemy's  country,  and  with  a  bashfulness  that 
was  painful  to  contemplate.  They  stood  before  the  bar, 
they  glanced  cautiously  to  the  right,  and  gently  inclined 
their  heads  backward,  until  only  a  line  of  eyes  and  noses 
were  visible  from  the  cashier's  desk. 

Then  the  judge  raised  his  green  glasses  a  moment,  and 
smiled  banignantly  on  the  new  cashier  as  he  raised  his 
liquor  aloft ;  then  he  turned  to  his  party,  and  they  drank 
the  toast  as  solemnly  as  if  they  were  the  soldiers  of  Miles 
Standish  fortifying  the  inner  man  against  fear  of  the  Pequods. 
Then  they  separated  into  small  groups,  and  conversed 
gravely  on  subjects  in  which  they  had  not  the  slightest  in- 
terest, while  each  one  pretended  not  to  look  toward  the 
cashier,  and  each  one  saw  what  the  others  were  earnestly 
striving  to  do. 

But  when  the  judge  settled  the  score,  and  chatted  for 
several  minutes  with  the  receiver  of  treasure,  and  the  lady — 
young,  and  rather  pretty,  and  quite  pleasant  and  modest  and 
business-like — laughed  merrily  at  something  the  judge  said? 
an  idea  gradually  dawned  upon  the  bystanders,  and  within 
a  few  moments  the  boys  feverishly  awaited  their  chances  to 
treat  the  crowd,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  having  an  excuse  to 
speak  to  the  new  cashier,  and  to  stand  within  three  feet  of 
her  for  about  the  space  of  a  minute. 

Great  was  the  excitement  on  the  Creek  when  the  party 
returned,  and  testified  to  the  entire  accuracy  of  London 
George's  report. 

Every  one  went  to  the  saloon  that  night — there  had  been 
some  games  arranged  to  take  place  at  certain  huts,  but  they 
were  postponed  by  mutual  consent. 

Even  the  Dominie — an  ex-preacher,  who  had  never  yet 
set  foot  upon  the  profane  floor  of  the  saloon — appeared  there 
that  evening  in  search  of  some  one  so  exceeding  hard  to  find 


222  NO  OPPORTUNITY  FOB  LOVE-MAKING. 

that  the  Dominie  was  compelled  to  make  several  tours  of  all 
the  tables  and  benches  in  the  room. 

Chestnut  himself,  when  questioned,  said  she  had  come 
by  the  way  of  the  Isthmus  with  her  father  and  mother,  who 
had  both  died  of  the  Chagres  fever  before  reaching  San 
Francisco — that  some  friends  of  her  family  and  his  had  been 
trying  to  get  her  something  to  do  in  'Frisco,  and  that  he  had 
engaged  her  at  an  ounce  a  day ;  and,  furthermore,  that  he 
would  be  greatly  obliged  if  the  boys  at  Quicksilver  wouldn't 
marry  her  before  she  had  worked  out  her  passage-money 
from  'Frisco,  which  he  had  advanced.  But  the  boys  at 
Quicksilver  were  not  so  thoughtful  of  Chestnut's  interests 
as  they  might  have  been.  They  began  to  buy  blacking  and 
neckties  and  white  shirts,  and  to  patronize  the  barber. 

No  one  had  any  opportunity  for  love-making,  for  the 
lady's  working  hours  were  all  spent  in  public,  and  in  a  busi- 
ness which  caused  frequent  interruptions  of  even  the  most 
agreeable  conversation. 

It  soon  became  understood  that  certain  men  had  proposed 
and  been  declined,  and  betting  on  who  would  finally  capture 
the  lady  was  the  most  popular  excitement  in  camp. 

Cool-headed  betting  men  watched  closely  the  counte- 
nance of  Sunrise  (as  some  effusive  miner  had  named  the  new 
cashier)  as  each  man  approached  to  pay  in  his  coin  or  dust, 
and  though  they  were  intensely  disgusted  by  its  revelations, 
they  unhesitatingly  offered  two  to  one  that  Dominie  would 
be  the  fortunate  man. 

To  be  sure,  she  saw  less  of  the  Dominie  than  of  any  one 
else,  for,  though  he  did  not  drink,  or  pay  for  the  liquor  con- 
sumed by  any  one  else,  he  occasionally  came  in  to  get  a 
large  coin  changed,  and  then  it  was  noticed  that  Sunrise  re- 
garded him  with  a  sort  of  earnestness  which  she  never  ex- 
hibited toward  any  one  else. 

"  Too  bad !"  sighed  Cairo  Jake.  "  Somebody  ort  to  tell 
her  that  he's  only  a  preacher,  an'  she'll  only  throw  herself 
away  ef  she  takes  him.  Ef  any  stranger  wuz  to  insult  her* 
Dominie  wouldn't  be  man  'nuff  to  draw  On  him." 


HOW  PREACHERS  KIN  TAKE  FOLKS 


223 


"  Beats  thunder,  though  !"  sighed  Redbank,  "  how  them 
preachers  kin  take  folks  in.  Thar's  Chestnut  himself,  lie's 
took  with  Dominie — 'stead  of  orderin'  him  out,  he  talks  with 
him  an'  her  just  ez  ef  he'd  as  lieve  get  rid  of  her  as  not." 

"  Boat's  a-comin'  !"  shouted  Cairo  Jake,  looking  toward 


the  place,  half  a  mile  below,  where  the  creek  emptied  into 
the  river.  "  See  her  smoke  ?  Like  'nuff  Tom  Chafflin's  on 
board.  He  wuz  a-goin'  to  try  to  come  back  by  the  first  boat, 
an'  of  course  lie's  done  it — jest  his  luck.  Ef  he'd  only  com& 


224  WHAT   HE   WENT   TO    'FRISCO   TO   LOOK   FOB. 

sooner,  somebody  besides  the  preacher  would  hev  got  her — 
you  kin  just  bet  your  bottom  ounce  on  it.  Let's  go  down  an' 
see  ef  he's  got  any  news." 

Several  miners  dropped  tools  and  pans,  and  followed  Jake 
to  the  landing,  and  gave  a  hearty  welcome  to  Tom  Chafflin. 

He  certainly  looked  like  anything  but  a  lucky  man ;  he 
was  good-looking,  and  seemed  smart,  but  his  face  wore  a 
dismal  expression,  which  seemed  decidedly  out  of  place  on 
the  countenance  of  a  habitually  lucky  man. 

"  Things  hain't  gone  right,  Tom  ?"  asked  Cairo  Jake. 

"  Never  went  worse,"  declared  Tom,  gloomily.  "  Guess 
I'll  sell  out,  an'  try  my  luck  somewheres  else." 

"  Ef  you'd  only  come  a  little  sooner !"  sighed  Jake,  "  you'd 
hev  hed  a  chance  that  would  hev  made  ev'rything  seem  to  go 
right  till  Judgment  Day.  I'll  show  yer." 

Jake  opened  the  saloon-door,  and  there  sat  Sunrise,  as 
bright,  modest,  and  pleasant-looking  as  ever. 

With  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  conferred  a  great  benefit, 
and  is  calmly  awaiting  his  rightful  reward,  Jake  turned  to 
Tom ;  but  his  expression  speedily  changed  to  one  of  hope- 
less wonder,  and  then  to  one  of  delight,  as  Tom  Chafflin 
walked  rapidly  up  to  the  cashier's  desk,  pushed  the  Dominie 
one  side  and  the  little  scales  the  other,  and  gave  Sunrise  sev- 
eral very  hearty  kisses,  to  which  the  lady  didn't  make  the 
slightest  objection — in  fact,  she  blushed  deeply,  and  seemed 
very  happy. 

"  That's  what  I  went  to  'Frisco  to  look  for,"  explained 
Tom,  to  the  staring  bystander,  "  but  I  couldn't  find  out  a 
word  about  her." 

"  Don't  wonder  yer  looked  glum,  then,"  said  Cairo  Jake  ; 
"  but — but  it's  jest  your  luck  !" 

"  Dominie  here  was  going  down  to  hurry  you  back," 
said  Sunrise  ;  "  but " 

"But  we'll  give  him  a  different  job  now,  my  dear,"  said 
Tom,  completing  the  sentence. 

And  they  did. 


OLD  TWITCHETT'S  TKEASUKE. 

OLD  TWITCHETT  was  in  a  very  bad  way.  He  must 
have  been  in  a  bad  way,  for  Crockey,  the  extremely 
mean  storekeeper  at  Bender,  had  given  up  his  own  bed  to 
Twitchett,  and  when  Crockey  was  moved  with  sympathy 
for  any  one,  it  was  a  sure  sign  that  the  object  of  his  com- 
miseration was  going  to  soon  stake  a  perpetual  claim  in  a 
distant  land,  whose  very  streets,  we  are  told,  are  of  precious 
metal,  and  whose  walls  and  gates  are  of  rare  and  beautiful 
stones. 

It  was  Twitchett's  own  fault,  the  boys  said,  with  much 
sorrowful  profanity.  When  they  abandoned  Black  Peter 
Gulch  to  the  Chinese,  and  located  at  Bender,  Twitchett 
should  have  come  along  with  the  crowd,  instead  of  staying 
there  by  himself,  in  such  an  unsociable  way.  Perhaps  he 
preferred  the  society  of  rattlesnakes  and  horned  toads  to 
that  of  high-toned,  civilized  beings — there  was  no  account- 
ing for  tastes — but  then  he  should  have  remembered  that 
all  the  rattlesnakes  in  the  valley  couldn't  have  raised 
a  single  dose  of  quinine  between  them,  and  that  the 
most  sociable  horned  toad  in  the  world,  and  the  most 
obliging  one,  couldn't  fry  a  sick  man's  pork,  or  make  his 
coffee. 

But,  then,  Twitchett  was  queer,  they  agreed — he  always 
was  queer.  He  kept  himself  so  much  apart  from  the  crowd, 
that  until  to-night,  when  the  boys  were  excited  about  him, 
few  had  ever  noticed  that  he  was  a  white-haired,  delicate 

225 


226  THE   BURIED   TREASUBE. 

young  man,  instead  of  a  decrepit  old  one,  and  that  the 
twitching  of  his  lips  was  rather  touching  than  comical. 

At  any  rate  it  was  good  for  Twitchett  that  two  old  resi- 
dents of  Black  Peter  Gulch  had,  ignorant  of  the  abandon- 
ment of  the  camp,  revisited  it,  and  accidentally  found  him 
insensible,  yet  alive,  on  the  floor  of  his  hut.  They  had 
taken  turns  in  carrying  him — for  he  was  wasted  and  light — 
until  they  reached  Crockey's  store,  and  when  they  laid  him 
down,  while  they  should  drink,  the  proprietor  of  the  estab- 
lishment (so  said  a  pessimist  in  the  camp),  seeing  that  his 
presence,  while  he  lived,  and  until  he  was  buried,  would  at- 
tract trade  and  increase  the  demand  for  drinks,  insisted  on 
putting  Twitchett  between  the  proprietary  blankets. 

Twitchett  had  rallied  a  little,  thanks  to  some  of  Crockey's 
best  brandy,  but  it  was  evident  to  those  who  saw  him  that 
when  he  left  Crockey's  he  would  be  entirely  unconscious  of 
the  fact.  Suddenly  Twitchett  seemed  to  realize  as  much  him- 
self, and  to  imagine  that  his  exit  might  be  made  very  soon, 
for  he  asked  for  the  men  who  brought  him  in,  and  motioned 
to  them  to  kneel  beside  him. 

"I'm  very  grateful,  boys,  for  your  kindness — I  wish  1 
could  reward  you ;  but  haven't  got  anything — I've  got 
nothing  at  all.  The  only  treasure  I  had  I  buried — buried  it 
in  the  hut,  when  I  thought  I  was  going  to  die  alone — I 
didn't  wan't  those  heathens  to  touch  it.  I  put  it  in  a  can — I 
wish  you'd  git  it,  and — it's  a  dying  man's  last  request — take 
it— and " 

If  Twitchett  finished  his  remark,  it  was  heard  only  by 
auditors  in  some  locality  yet  unvisited  by  Sam  Baker  and 
Boylston  Smith,  who  still  knelt  beside  the  dead  man's  face, 
and  with  averted  eyes  listened  for  the  remainder  of  Twit- 
chett's  last  sentence. 

Slowly  they  comprehended  that  Twitchett  was  in  a  con- 
dition which,  according  to  a  faithful  proverb,  effectually 
precluded  the  telling  of  tales;  then  they  gazed  solemnly 
into  each  other's  faces,  and  each  man  placed  his  dexter  fore- 
finger upon  his  lips.  Then  Boylston  Smith  whispered  : 


COULDN'T  GO  BACK  ON  THE  CORPSE.  227 

"  Virtue  is  its  own  reward — hey,  Sam  ?" 

"  You  bet,"  whispered  Mr.  Baker,  in  reply.  "  It's  on  the 
square  now,  between  us  ?" 

"  Square  as  a  die,"  whispered  Boylston. 

"  When'll  we  go  for  it?"  asked  Sam  Baker. 

"  Can't  go  till  after  the  fun'ril,"  virtuously  whispered 
Boylston.  "  'Twould  be  mighty  ungrateful  to  go  back  on 
the  corpse  that's  made  our  fortunes." 

"  Fact,"  remarked  Mr.  Baker,  holding  near  the  nostrils 
of  Old  Twitchett  a  pocket-mirror  he  had  been  polishing  on 
his  sleeve.  After  a  few  seconds  he  examined  the  mirror, 
and  whispered : 

"  Nary  a  sign — might's  well  tell  the  boys." 

The  announcement  of  Twitchett's  death  was  the  signal 
for  an  animated  discussion  and  considerable  betting.  How 
much  dust  he  had  washed,  and  what  he  had  done  with  it, 
seeing  that  he  neither  drank  nor  gambled,  was  the  sole 
theme  of  discussion.  There  was  no  debate  on  the  deceased's 
religious  evidences — no  distribution  of  black  crape — no 
tearful  beating  down  of  the  undertaker  ;  these  accessories  of 
a  civilized  deathbed  were  all  scornfully  disregarded  by  the 
bearded  men  who  had  feelingly  drank  to  Twitchett's  good 
luck  in  whatever  world  he  had  gone  to.  But  when  it  came 
to  deceased's  gold — his  money — the  bystanders  exhibited  an 
interest  which  was  one  of  those  touches  of  nature  which 
certifies  the  universal  kinship. 

Each  man  knew  all  about  Twitchett's  money,  though  no 
two  agreed.  He  had  hid  it — he  had  been  unlucky,  and  had 
not  found  much — he  had  slyly  sent  it  home — he  had  wasted 
it  by  sending  it  East  for  lottery  tickets  which  always  drew 
blanks — he  had  been  supporting  a  benevolent  institution. 
Old  Deacon  Baggs  mildly  suggested  that  perhaps  he  only 
washed  out  such  gold  as  he  actually  needed  to  purchase 
eatables  with,  but  the  boys  smiled  derisively — they  didn't 
like  to  laugh  at  the  deacon's  gray  hairs,  but  he  loas  queer. 

Old  Twitchett  was  buried,  and  Sam  Baker  and  Boylston 
Smith  reverently  uncovered  with  the  rest  of  the  boys,  while 


328  OLD  TWITCHETT'S  ADMINISTKATOBS. 

Deacon  Baggs  made  an  extempore  prayer.  But  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day  Old  Twitchett's  administrators  foamed 
restlessly  about,  and  watched  each  other  narrowly,  and 
listened  to  the  conversation  of  every  group  of  men  who 
seemed  to  be  talking  with  any  spirit ;  they  kept  a  sharp  eye 
on  the  trail  to  Black  Peter  Gulch,  lest  some  unscrupulous 
miner  should  suspect  the  truth  and  constitute  himself  sole 
legatee. 

But  when  the  shades  of  evening  had  gathered,  and  a  few 
round  drinks  had  stimulated  the  citizens  to  more  spirited 
•discussion,  Sam  and  Boylston  strode  rapidly  out  on  the 
Black  Peter  Gulch  trail,  to  obtain  the  reward  of  virtue. 

"  He  didn't  say  what  kind  of  a  can  it  was,"  remarked 
Mr.  Baker,  after  the  outskirts  of  Bender  had  been  left 
^behind. 

"Just  what  I  thought,"  replied  Boylston;  "pity  he 
•couldn't  hev  lasted  long  enough  for  us  to  hev  asked  him. 
But  I've  been  a-workin'  some  sums  about  different  kinds  of 
cans — I  learned  how  from  Phipps,  this  afternoon — he's  been 
to  college,  an'  his  head's  cram-full  of  sech  puzzlin'  things. 
It  took  multiplyin'  with  four  figures  to  git  the  answer,  but  I 
couldn't  take  a  peaceful  drink  till  I  knowed  somethin'  'bout 
how  the  find  would  pan  out." 

"Well?"  inquired  Mr.  Baker,  anathematizing  a  stone 
over  which  he  had  just  stumbled. 

"Well,"  replied  Boylston,  stopping  in  an  exasperating 
manner  to  light  his  pipe,  "  the  smallest  can  a-goin'  is  a  half- 
pound  powder-can,  and  that'll  hold  over  two  thousand  dol- 
lars worth — even  that  wouldn't  be  bad  for  a  single  night's 
work — eh  ?" 

"Just  so,"  responded  Mr.  Baker;  "then  there's  oyster- 
cans  an'  meat-cans." 

"  Yes,"  said  Boylston,  "  an'  the  smallest  of  'em's  good 
fur  ten  thousand,  ef  it's  full.  An'  when  yer  come  to  five- 
pound  powders — why,  one  of  them  would  make  two  fellers 
rich !" 

They  passed  quickly  and  quietly  through  Greenhorn's 


ONE  BET  NOW.  229" 

Bar.  The  diggings  at  the  Bar  were  very  rich,  and  experi- 
enced poker-players,  such  as  were  Twitchett's  executors, 
had  made  snug  little  sums  in  a  single  night  out  of  the 
innocent  countrymen  who  had  located  at  the  Bar ;  but  what 
were  the  chances  of  the  most  brilliant  game  to  the  splendid 
certainty  which  lay  before  them  ? 

They  reached  Black  Peter  Gulch  and  found  Twitchett's 
hut  still  unoccupied,  save  by  a  solitary  rattlesnake,  whose= 
warning  scared  them  not.  Mr.  Baker  carefully  covered  the 
single  window  with  his  coat,  and  then  Boylston  lit  a  candle- 
and  examined  the  clay  floor.  There  were  several  little 
depressions  in  its  surface,  and  in  each  of  these  Boylston, 
vigorously  drove  his  pick,  while  Mr.  Baker  stood  outside 
alternately  looking  out  for  would-be  disturbers,  and  looking 
in  through  a  crack  in  the  door  to  see  that  his  partner  should 
not,  in  case  he  found  the  can,  absentmindedly  spill  some  of 
the  contents  into  his  own  pocket  before  he  made  a  formal 
division. 

Boylston  stopped  a  moment  for  breath,  leaned  on  his 
pick,  stroked  his  yellow  beard  thoughtfully,  and  offered  to 
bet  that  it  would  be  an  oyster-can.  Mr.  Baker  whispered 
through  the  crack  that  he  would  take  that  bet,  and  make  it 
an  ounce. 

Boylston  again  bent  to  the  labor,  which,  while  it  wearied 
his  body,  seemed  to  excite  his  imagination,  for  he  paused 
long  enough  to  bet  that  it  would  be  a  five-pound  powder- 
can,  and  Mr.  Baker,  again  willing  to  fortify  himself  against 
possible  loss,  accepted  the  bet  in  ounces. 

Suddenly  Boylston's  pick  brought  to  light  something 
yellow  and  round — something  the  size  of  an  oyster-can,  and 
wrapped  in  a  piece  of  oilskin. 

"  You've  won  one  bet,"  whispered  Mr.  Baker,  who  was 
inside  before  the  yellow  package  had  ceased  rolling  across 
the  floor. 

"  Not  ef  tlds  is  it,"  growled  Boylston ;  "  it  don't  weigh 
more'n  ounce  can,  wrapper  and  all.  Might's  well  see  what 
'tis,  though." 


230  GOLD,  NOT  LOOKED  FOB. 

The  two  men  approached  the  candle,  hastily  tore  off  the 
oilskin,  and  carefully  shook  the  contents  from  the  can.  The 
contents  proved  to  be  a  small  package,  labeled :  "My  only 
treasures" 

Boylston  mentioned  the  name  of  the  arch-adversary  of 
souls,  while  Mr.  Baker,  with  a  well-directed  blow  of  his 
heel,  reduced  the  can  from  a  cylindrical  form  to  one  not 
easily  described  by  any  geometric  term. 

Unwrapping  the  package,  Mr.  Baker  discovered  a 
picture-case,  which,  when  opened,  disclosed  the  features  of 
a  handsome  young  lady ;  while  from  the  wrappings  fell  a 
small  envelope,  which  seemed  distended  in  the  middle. 

"  Gold  in  that,  mebbe,"  suggested  Boylston,  picking  it 
up  and  opening  it.  It  was  gold  ;  fine,  yellow,  and  brilliant, 
but  not  the  sort  of  gold  the  dead  man's  friends  were  seeking, 
for  it  was  a  ringlet  of  hair. 

Sadly  Mr.  Baker  put  on  his  coat,  careless  of  the  light 
which  streamed  through  the  window ;  slowly  and  sorely 
they  wended  their  way  homeward ;  wrathfully  they  bemoaned 
their  wasted  time,  as  they  passed  by  the  auriferous  slum- 
berers  of  Greenhorn's  Bar;  depressing  was  the  general 
nature  of  their  conversation.  Yet  they  were  human  in  spite 
of  their  disappointment,  for,  as  old  Deacon  Baggs,  who  was 
an  early  riser,  strolled  out  in  the  gray  dawn  for  a  quiet  season 
of  meditation,  he  saw  Boylston  Smith  filling  up  a  little  hole 
he  had  made  on  top  of  Old  Twitchett's  grave,  and  putting 
the  dirt  down  very  tenderly  with  his  hands. 


BLIZZER'S    WIFE. 

THE  mining-camp  of  Tough  Case,  though  small,  had  its 
excitements,  as  well  as  did  many  camps  of  half  a  dozen 
saloon-power ;  and  on  the  first  day  of  November,  1850,  it 
was  convulsed  by  the  crisis  of  by  far  the  greatest  excitement 
it  had  ever  enjoyed. 

It  was  not  a  lucky  "  find,"  for  some  of  the  largest  nuggets 
in  the  State  had  been  taken  out  at  Tough  Case.  It  was  not 
a  grand  spree,  for  all  sprees  at  Tough  Case  were  grand, 
and  they  took  place  every  Sunday.  It  was  not  a  fight,  for 
when  the  average  of  fully-developed  fights  fell  below  one  a 
fortnight,  some  patriotic  citizen  would  improvise  one,  that 
the  honor  of  his  village  should  not  suffer. 

No ;  all  these  promoters  of  delicious  and  refreshing 
tumult  were  as  nothing  to  the  agitation  which,  commencing 
three  months  before,  had  increased  and  taken  firmer  hold  of 
all  hearts  at  Tough  Case,  until  to-day  it  had  reached  its  cul- 
mination. 

Blizzer's  wife  had  come  out,  and  was  to  reach  camp  by  that 
day's  boat. 

Since  Blizzer  had  first  announced  his  expectation,  every 
man  in  camp  had  been  secretly  preparing  for  the  event ;  but 
to-day  all  secrecy  was  at  an  end,  and  white  shirts,  standing 
collars,  new  pants,  black  hats,  polished  boots,  combs,  brushes 
and  razors,  and  even  hair-oil  and  white  handkerchiefs,  so 
transformed  the  tremulous  miners,  that  a  smart  detective 
would  have  been  puzzled  in  looking  for  any  particular  citi- 
zen of  Tough  Case. 

231 


232  GREAT   EXPECTATIONS. 

Even  old  Hatchetjaw,  whose  nickname  correctly  indi- 
cated the  moral  import  of  his  countenance,  sheepishly  gave 
Moosoo,  the  old  Frenchman,  an  ounce  of  gold-dust  for  an 
hour's  labor  bestowed  on  Hatchetjaw's  self-asserting  red  hair. 

Bets  as  to  what  she  looked  like  were  numerous ;  and,  as 
no  one  had  the  slightest  knowledge  on  the  subject,  experi- 
enced bettists  made  handsome  fortunes  in  betting  against 
every  description  which  was  backed  by  money.  For  each 
man  had  so  long  pondered  over  the  subject,  that  his  ideal 
portrait  seemed  to  him  absolutely  correct ;  and  an  amateur 
phrenologist,  who  had  carefully  studied  Blizzer's  cranium  and 
the  usually  accepted  laws  of  affinity,  consistently  bet  his  last 
ounce,  his  pistol,  hut,  frying-pan,  blankets,  and  even  a  pack 
of  cards  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preservation. 

Sailors,  collegemen,  Pikes,  farmers,  clerks,  loafers,  and 
sentimentalists,  stood  in  front  of  Sim  Ripson's  store,  and 
stared  their  eyes  into  watery  redness  in  vain  attempts  to- 
hurry  the  boat. 

A  bet  of  drinks  for  the  crowd,  lost  by  the  non-arrival  of 
the  boat  on  time,  was  just  being  paid,  when  Sim  Bipson, 
whose  bar- window  commanded  the  fiver,  exclaimed ; 

"  She's  comin' !" 

Many  were  the  heeltaps  left  in  glasses  as  the  crowd  hur- 
ried to  the  door ;  numerous  were  the  stealthy  glances  be- 
stowed on  shirt-cuffs  and  finger-nails  and  boot-legs.  Cross- 
tree,  a  dandyish  young  sailor,  hung  back  to  regard  himself 
in  a  small  fragment  of  looking-glass  he  carried  in  his  pocket, 
but  was  rebuked  for  his  vanity  by  stumbling  over  the  door- 
sill — an  operation  which  finally  resulted  in  his  nose  being 
laid  up  in  ordinary. 

The  little  steamer  neared  the  landing,  whistled  shrilly, 
snorted  defiantly,  buried  her  nose  in  the  muddy  bank  in 
front  of  the  store,  and  shoved  out  a  plank. 

Several  red-shirted  strangers  got  off,  but  no  one  noticed 
them  ;  at  any  other  time,  so  large  an  addition  to  the  popu- 
lation of  Tough  Case  would  have  justified  an  extra  spree. 

Sundry  barrels  were  rolled  out,  but  not  even  old  Guzzle 


A   SEVERE  DISAPPOINTMENT.  233 

inspected  the  brand  ;  barrels  and  bags  of  onions  and  pota- 
toes were  stacked  on  the  bank,  but  though  the  camp  was 
sadly  in  need  of  vegetables,  no  one  expressed  becoming  ex- 
ultation. 

All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  steamer-end  of  the  gang-plank, 
and  every  heart  beat  wildly  as  Blizzer  appeared,  leading  a 
figure  displaying  only  the  top  of  a  big  bonnet  and  a  blanket- 
shawl  hanging  on  one  arm. 

They  stepped  on  the  gang-plank,  they  reached  the 
shore,  and  then  the  figure  raised  its  head  and  dropped  the 
shawl. 

"  Thunder !"  ejaculated  Fourteenth  Street,  and  immedi- 
ately retired  and  drank  himself  into  a  deplorable  condition. 

The  remaining  observers  dispersed  respectfully ;  but  the 
reckless  manner  in  which  they  wandered  through  mud-pud- 
dles and  climbed  over  barrels  and  potato-sacks,  indicated 
plainly  that  their  disappointment  had  been  severe. 

After  another  liquid  bet  had  been  paid,  and  while  sleeves 
but  lately  tenderly  protected  were  carelessly  drying  damp 
mustaches,  an  old  miner  remarked  : 

"  Keckon  that's  why  he  left  the  States ;"  and  the  em- 
phatic "  You  bet !"  which  followed  his  words  showed  that 
the  Tough  Caseites  were  unanimous  on  the  subject  of  Mrs. 
Blizzer. 

For  she  was  short  and  fat,  and  had  a  pug  nose,  and  a 
cast  in  one  eye  ;  her  forehead  was  low  and  square,  and  her 
hair  was  of  a  color  which  seemed  "  fugitive,"  as  the  paper- 
makers  say.  Her  hands  were  large  and  pudgy,  her  feet 
afforded  broad  foundations  for  the  structure  above  them,  and 
her  gait  was  not  suggestive  of  any  popular  style.  Besides, 
she  seemed  ten  years  older  than  her  husband,  who  was  not 
yet  thirty. 

For  several  days  boots  were  allowed  to  grow  rusty  and 
chins  unshaven,  as  the  boys  gradually  drank  and  worked 
themselves  into  a  dumb  forgetfulness  of  their  lately  cherished 
ideals. 

But  one  evening,  during  a  temporary  lull  in  the  conver- 


234  A   MARKED   IMPROVEMENT   IN  BLIZZER. 

sation  at  Sim  Ripson's,  old  Uncle  Ben,  ex-deacon  of  a  New 
Hampshire  church,  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  remarked  : 

"  'Pears  to  me  Blizzer's  beginnin'  to  look  scrumptious. 
He  used  to  be  the  shabbiest  man  in  camp." 

Through  the  open  door  the  boys  saw  Blizzer  carrying  a 
pail  of  water ;  and  though  water-carrying  in  the  American 
manner  is  not  an  especially  graceful  performance,  Blizzer  cer- 
tainly looked  unusually  neat. 

Palette,  who  had  spoiled  many  canvases  and  paint- 
brushes in  the  East,  attentively  studdied  Blizzer  in  detail, 
and  found  his  hair  was  combed,  his  shirt  buttoned  at  the 
collar,  and  his  trowsers  lacking  the  California  soil  which 
always  adorns  the  seat  and  knees  of  orthodox  mining  panta- 
loons. 

"  It's  her  as  did  it,"  said  Pat  Fadclen  ;  "  an'  'tain't  all 
she's  done.  Fhat  d'ye  tink  she  did  dhis  mornin'  ?  I  was  a- 
fixin'  me  pork,  jist  as  ivery  other  bye  in  camp  allers  does  i*, 
an'  jist  then  who  should  come  along  but  hersilf.  I  tuk  off 
me  pork,  and  comminced  me  breakfast,  when  sez  she  to  me, 
sez  she,  '  Ye  don't  ate  it  widout  gravy,  do  ye  ?'  '  Gravy,  is 
it?'  sez  I.  Nobody  iver  heard  of  gravy  here,'  sez  I.  'Thin 
it's  toime,'  sez  she,  an'  she  poured  off  the  fat,  an'  crumbled  a 
bit  of  cracker  in  the  pan,  an'  put  in  some  wather,  an'  whin  I 
thought  the  ould  thing  'ud  blow  up  for  the  shteam  it  made, 
she  poured  the  gravy  on  me  plate — yes,  she  did." 

There  were  but  a  few  men  at  Tough  Case  who  were  not 
willing  to  have  their  daily  fare  improved,  and  as  Mrs.  Bliz- 
zer did  not  make  a  tour  of  instruction,  the  boys  made  it  con- 
venient to  stand  near  Mrs.  Blizzer's  own  fire,  and  see  the 
mysteries  of 'cooking. 

As  a  natural  consequence,  Sim  Ripson  began  to  have  in- 
quiries for  articles  which  he  had  never  heard  of,  much  less 
sold,  and  he  found  a  hurried  trip  to  'Frisco  was  an  actual 
business  necessity. 

As  several  miners  took  their  departure,  after  one  of  these 
culinary  lessons,  Arkansas  Bill,  with  a  mysterious  air,  took 
Fourteenth  Street  aside. 


235 

"  Forty,"  said  he,  in  a  most  appealing  tone,  "  ken  you  see 
what  'twas  about?  She  kep'  a-lookin'  at  my  left  han'  a'l 
the  time,  ez  ef  she  thort  there  wuz  somethin'  the  matter  with 
it.  Mebbe  she  thort  I  was  tuckin'  biscuits  up  my  sleeves, 
like  keerds  in  a  live  game.  Ken  you  see  any  thin'  the  mat- 
ter with  that  paw  ?" 

The  aristocratic  young  reprobate  gave  the  hand  a  criti- 
cal glance,  and  replied : 

"  Perhaps  she  thought  you  didn't  know  what  buttons  and 
buttonholes  were  made  for." 

"  Thunder  !"  exclaimed  the  miner,  with  an  expression  of 
countenance  which  Archimedes  might  have  worn  when  he 
made  his  famous  discovery. 

From  that  day  forward  the  gentleman  from  Arkansas  in- 
stituted a  rigid  buttonhole  inspection  before  venturing  from 
his  hut,  besides  purchasing  a  share  in  a  new  clothes - 
broom. 

"  Tears  to  me  I  don't  see  Blizzer  playin'  keerds  with  you 
fellers  ez  much  ez  he  wuz,"  remarked  Uncle  Ben  one  even- 
ing at  the  store. 

"  No,"  said  Flipp,  the  champion  euchre-player,  with  a  sad 
face  and  a  strong  oath.  "  He  used  to  lose  his  ounces  like  a 
man.  But  t'other  night  I  knocked  at  his  door,  and  asked 
him  to  come  down  an'  hev  ahan'.  He  didn't  say  no  thin',  but 
she  up  an'  sed  he'd  stopped  playin'.  I  reely  tuk  it  to  be  my 
duty  to  argy  with  her,  an'  show  her  how  tough  it  wuz  to  cut 
off  a  feller's  enjoyment ;  but  she  sed  'twas  too  high-priced 
fur  the  fun  it  fetched." 

"  That  ain't  the  wust,  nuther,"  said  Topjack  Flipp's  usual 
partner.  "  There  wuz  Arkansas  Bill  an'  Jerry  Miller,  thet 
used  to  be  ez  fond  of  ther  little  game  ez  anybody.  Nov, 
ev'ry  night  they  go  up  thar  to  Blizzer' s,  an'  jest  do  nothin' 
but  sit  aroun'  an'  talk.  It's  enough  to  make  a  marble  statoo 
cuss  to  see  good  men  spiled  that  way." 

"  Somethin'  'stonishin'  'bout  what  comes  of  it,  though," 
resumed  the  deacon.  "  'Twas  only  yestiddy  thet  Bill  was 
kerryin'  a  bucket  of  dirt  to  the  crick,  an'  jest  ez  he  got  there 


236  NO   WORK  ON  SUNDAY. 

his  foot  slipped  in,  an'  he  went  kerslosh.  Knowin'  Bill's 
language  on  sech  occasions  ain't  what  a  church-member  ort 
to  hear,  I  was  makin'  it  convenient  to  leave,  when  along  come 
her,  an5  he  choked  off  ez  suddin  ez  a  feller  on  the  gallers." 

Day  by  day  the  boys  dug  dirt,  and  carried  it  to  the 
creek,  and  washed  out  the  precious  gold ;  day  by  day  the 
denizens  of  Tough  Case  worked  as  many  hours  and  as  indus- 
triously as  men  anywhere.  But  no  Tough  Caseite  was  so 
wicked  as  to  work  on  Sunday. 

Sunday  at  Tough  Case  commenced  at  sunset  on  Satur- 
day, after  the  good  old  Puritan  fashion,  and  lasted  through 
until  working-time  on  Monday  morning.  But  beyond  this 
matter  of  time  the  Puritan  parallel  could  not  be  pursued, 
for  on  Sunday  was  transacted  all  the  irregular  business  of 
the  week ;  on  Sunday  was  done  all  the  hard  drinking  and 
heavy  gambling  ;  and  on  Sunday  were  settled  such  personal 
difficulties  as  were  superior  to  the  limited  time  and  low 
liquor-pressure  of  the  week. 

The  evening  sun  of  the  first  Saturday  of  Mrs.  Blizzer's 
residence  at  Tough  Case  considered  his  day's  work  done, 
and  retired  under  the  snowy  coverlets  the  Sierras  lent  him. 
The  tired  miners  gladly  dropped  pick,  shovel,  and  pan,  but 
bedclothing  was  an  article  which  at  that  moment  they 
scorned  to  consider  ;  there  was  important  business  and  en- 
tertainment, which  would  postpone  sleep  for  many  hours. 

The  express  would  be  along  in  the  morning,  and  no  pru- 
dent man  could  sleep  peaceably  until  he  had  deposited  his 
gold  dust  in  the  company's  strong  box.  Then  there  were 
two  or  three  old  feuds  which  might  come  to  a  head — they 
always  did  on  Sunday.  And  above  all,  Redwing,  a  man  with 
enormous  red  whiskers,  had  been  threatening  all  week  to 
have  back  the  money  Flipp  had  won  from  him  on  the  pre- 
ceding Sunday,  and  Kedwing  had  been  very  lucky  in  his 
claim  all  week,  and  the  two  men  were  very  nearly  matched, 
and  were  magnificent  players,  so  the  game  promised  to  last 
many  hours,  and  afford  handsome  opportunities  for  outside 
betting. 


NO  ARISTOCRATS,  PAUPERS,  OR  CLIQUES.  237 

Sim  Bipson  understood  his  business.  By  sunset  he  had 
all  his  bottles  freshly  filled,  and  all  his  empty  boxes  distri- 
buted about  the  room  for  seats,  and  twice  as  many  candles 
lighted  as  usual,  and  the  card-tables  reinforced  by  some  up- 
turned barrels.  He  also  had  a  neat  little  woodpile  under  the 
bar,  to  serve  as  a  barricade  against  stray  shots. 

The  boys  dropped  in  pleasantly,  two  or  three  at  a  time^ 
and  drank  merrily  with  each  other ;  and  the  two  or  three 
who  were  not  drinking  men  sauntered  in  to  compare  notes 
with  the  others. 

There  were  no  aristocrats  or  paupers  at  Tough  Case,  nor 
any  cliques  ;  whatever  the  men  were  at  home,  here  they  were 
equal,  and  Sim  Bipson's  was  the  general  gathering-place  for 
everybody. 

But  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  hours  there  was  a  per- 
ceptible change  of  the  general  tone  at  Sim  Bipson's — it  was 
so  every  Saturday  night,  or  Sunday  morning.  Old  Hatchet- 
jaw  said  it  was  because  Sim  Bipson's  liquor  wasn't  good ; 
Moosoo,  the  Frenchman,  maintained  it  was  due  to  the  ab- 
sence of  chivalrous  spirit ;  Crosstree,  the  sailor,  said  it 
was  always  so  with  landsmen ;  Fourteenth  Street  privately 
confided  to  several  that  'twas  because  there  was  no  good 
blood  in  camp  ;  the  amateur  phrenologist  ascribed  it  to  an 
undue  cerebral  circulation ;  and  Uncle  Ben,  the  deacon,  in- 
sisted upon  it  that  the  fiend,  personally,  was  the  disturbing 
element. 

Probably  all  of  them  were  right,  for  it  seemed  impossible 
that  the  Sunday  excitements  at  Sim  Bipsons's  could  proceed 
from  any  single  cause — their  proportions  were  too  magnifi- 
cent. 

Drinking,  singing,  swearing,  gambling,  and  fighting,  the 
Tough  Caseites  made  night  so  hideous  that  Uncle  Ben  spent 
half  the  night  in  earnest  prayer  for  these  misguided  men, 
and  the  remainder  of  it  in  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  to 
start  for  home. 

But  by  far  the  greater  number  of  the  boys,  on  that  par- 
ticular night,  surrounded  the  table  at  which  sat  Bedwing 


238      "  YER  TUK  THAT  ACE  OUT  OP  YER  SLEEVE." 

and  Flip.  Both  were  playing  their  best,  and  as  honestly  aa 
each  was  compelled  to  do  by  his  adversary's  watchfulness. 

Each  had  several  times  accused  the  other  of  cheating  ^ 
each  had  his  revolver  at  his  right  hand ;  and  the  crowd  about 
them  had  the  double  pleasure  of  betting  on  the  game  and  on 
which  would  shoot  first. 

Suddenly  Redwing  arose,  as  Flipp  played  an  ace  on  his 
adversary's  last  card,  and  raked  the  dust  toward  himself. 

"  Yer  tuk  that  ace  out  of  yer  sleeve — I  seed  yer  do  it. 
Give  me  back  my  ounces,"  said  Redwing. 

"  It's  a  lie  !"  roared  the  great  Flipp,  springing  to  his  feet, 
and  seizing  Redwing's  pistol-arm. 

The  weapon  fell,  and  both  men  clutched  like  tigers.  Sim 
Ripson  leaped  over  the  bar  and  separated  them. 

"  No  rasslin'  here  !"  said  he.  "  When  gentlemen  gits  too 
jnad  to  hold  in,  an'  shoots  at  sight,  I  hev  to  stan'  it,  but 
rasslin's  vulgar — you'll  hev  to  go  out  o'  doors  to  do  it." 

"I'll  hev  it  out  with  him  with  pistols,  then  !"  cried  Red- 
wing, picking  up  his  weapon. 

"'Greed!"  roared  Flip,  whose  pistol  lay  on  the  table. 
"  We'll  do  it  cross  the  crick,  at  daylight. 

"  It's  daylight  now,"  said  Sim  Ripson,  hurriedly,  after 
looking  out  of  his  window  at  the  end  of  the  bar. 

He  was  a  good  storekeeper,  was  Sim  Ripson,  and  he  knew 
how  to  mix  drinks,  but  he  had  an  unconquerable  aversion  to 
washing  blood  stains  out  of  the  floor. 

The  two  gamblers  rushed  out  of  the  door,  pistols  in  hand, 
and  the  crowd  followed,  each  man  talking  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  and  betting  on  the  chances  of  the  combatants. 

Suddenly,  above  all  the  noise,  they  heard  a  cracked 
soprano  voice  singing  with  some  unauthorized  flatting  and 
sharping  : 

"  Another  six  days'  work  is  done, 
Another  Sabbath  is  begun. 
Return,  my  soul,  enjoy  thy  rest, 
Improve  the  day  thy  God  has  blessed." 

Redwing  stopped,  and  dropped  his  head  to  one  side,  as- 


CONVERTING  MRS.  BUZZER  TO   COMMON   SENSE.  239 

if  expecting  more ;  Flipp  stopped ;  everybody  did.  Arkan- 
sas Bill,  whose  good  habits  had  been  laid  aside  late  Satur- 
day afternoon,  exclaimed : 

"  Well,  I'll  be  blowed  1" 

Bill  didn't  mean  anything  of  the  sort,  but  the  tone  in 
which  he  said  it  expressed  precisely  the  feeling  of  the  crowd. 
The  voice  was  again  heard  : 

"  Oh,  that  our  thoughts  and  thanks  may  rise, 
As  grateful  incense  to  the  skies ; 
And  draw  from  heaven  that  sweet  repose 
Which  none  but  he  that  feels  it  knows." 

Redwing  turned  abruptly  on  his  heel. 

"  Keep  the  ounces,"  said  he.  "  Ther's  an  old  woman  to 
hum  that  thinks  a  sight  o'  me — I  reckon,  myself,  I'm  good 
fur  somethin'  besides  fillin'  a  hole  in  the  ground." 

That  night  Sim  Bipson  complained  that  it  had  been  the 
poorest  Sunday  he  had  ever  had  at  Tough  Case  ;  the  boys 
drank,  but  it  was  a  sort  of  nerveless,  unbusinesslike  way 
that  Sim  Bipson  greatly  regretted  ;  and  very  few  bets  were 
settled  in  Sim  Bipson's  principal  stock  in  trade. 

When  Sim  finally  learned  the  cause  of  his  trouble,  he 
promptly  announced  his  intention  of  converting  Mrs.  Bliz- 
zer to  common  sense,  and  as  he  had  argued  Uncle  Ben,  first 
into  a  perfect  frenzy  and  then  into  silence,  the  crowd  consid- 
ered Mrs.  Blizzer's  faith  doomed. 

Monday  morning,  bright  and  early,  as  men  with  aching 
heads  were  taking  their  morning  bitters,  Mrs.  Blizzer  ap- 
peared at  Sim  Ripson's  store,  and  purchased  a  bar  of  soap. 

"  Boys  heord  ye  singin'  yesterday,"  said  Sim. 

"  les  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Blizzer. 

"Yes— all  of  'em  delighted,"  said  Sim,  gallantly.  "But 
ye  don't  believe  in  no  sich  stuff,  I  s'pose,  do  ye?" 

"What  stuff?"  asked  Mrs.  Blizzer. 

*  Why,  'bout  heaven  an'  hell,  an'  the  Bible,  an'  all  them 
things.  Do  ye  know  what  the  Greek  fur  hell  meant  ?  An' 
do  ye  know 'the  Bible's  all  the  time  contradictin'  itself  ?"  I 
can  show  ye " 


240  "  FOURTEENTH   STREET  "  ASTONISHES  THE  CROWD. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  do  know,  Mr.  Eipson,"  said  the  woman ; 
"I  know  some  things  in  my  heart  that  no  mortal  bein'  never 
told  me,  an1  they  couldn*t  be  skeered  out  by  all  the  diction- 
aries an'  commentators  a-goin ;  that's  what  I  know." 

And  Mrs.  Blizzer  departed,  while  the  astonished  theolo- 
gian sheepishly  admitted  that  he  owed  drinks  to  the  crowd. 

While  the  ex-deacon,  Uncle  Ben,  was  trying  to  deter- 
mine to  go  home,  he  found  quite  a  pretty  nugget  that  set- 
tled his  mind,  and  he  announced  that  same  night,  at  the 
store,  that  all  his  mining  property  was  for  sale,  as  he  was 
going  back  East. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  Uncle  Ben,"  said  Fourteenth  Street. 

The  crowd  was  astounded ;  men  of  Fourteenth  Street's 
calibre  seldom  had  pluck  enough  to  go  to  the  mines,  and 
their  getting  away,  or  their  doing  any  thing  that  required 
manliness,  was  of  still  more  unfrequent  occurrence. 

"I  know^Lt,"  said  the  young  man,  translating  the  glances 
which  met  his  eye.  "  You  fellows  think  I  don't  amount  to 
much,  anyway.  Perhaps  I  don't.  I  came  out  here  because 
I  fell  out  with  a  girl  I  thought  I  loved.  She  acted  like  a 
fool,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  all  women  were  fools.  But 
that,  wife  of  Blizzer's  has  shown  me  more  about  true 
womanliness  than  all  the  girls  I  ever  knew,  and  I'm  going 
back  to  try  it  over  again." 

One  morning  a  small  crowd  of  early  drinkers  at  Sim 
Eipson's  dropped  their  glasses,  yet  did  not  go  briskly  out 
to  work  as  usual.  In  fact,  they  even  hung  aloof,  in  a  most 
ungentlemanly  manner,  from  Jerry  Miller,  who  had  just 
stood  treat,  and  both  these  departures  from  the  usual  cus- 
tom indicated  that  something  unusual  was  the  matter. 
Finally,  Topjack  remarked : 

"  He's  a  stranger,  an'  typhus  is  a  bad  thing  to  hev  aroun', 
but  somethin'  'ort  to  be  done  for  him.  'Taint  the  thing  to 
ax  fur  volunteers,  fur  it's  danger  without  no  chance  of  pleas- 
in'  excitement.  We  might  throw  keerds  aroun',  one  to  each 
feller  in  the  camp,  and  him  as  gets  ace  of  spades  is  to  tend 
to  the  poor  cuss." 

"I  think   Jerry  ought  to  go    himself,"  argued   Flipp. 


"  NEEDN'T  TROUBLE  YERSELVES,  SHE'S  THAR."          241 

"He's  been  exposed  already,  by  lookin'  in  to  the  feller's 
shanty,  an's  prob'bly  hurt  ez  bad  as  he's  goin'  to  be." 

"/might  go,"  said  Sim  Eipson,  who,  in  his  character  of 
barkeeper,  had  to  sustain  a  reputation  for  bravery  and  pub- 
lic spirit,  "  but  'twouldn't  do  to  shut  up  the  store,  ye  know, 
an'  specially  the  bai* — nobody'd  stan'  it." 

"Needn't  trouble  yerselves,"  said  Arkansas  Bill,  who  had 
entered  during  the  conversation;  "she's  thar." 

"  Thunder !"  exclaimed  Topjack,  frowning,  and  then  look- 
ing sheepish. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Bill ;  "  she  stopped  me  ez  I  wuz  corn- 
in'  along,  an'  sed  she'd  jist  heerd  of  it,  an'  was  a-goin'.  I 
tol'  her  ther'  wuz  men  enough  in  camp  to  look  out  fur  him, 
but  she  said  she  reckoned  she  could  do  it  best.  Wants 
some  things  from  'Frisco,  though,  an'  I'm  a-goin'  for  'em." 

And  Arkansas  Bill  departed,  while  the  men  at  Sim  Kip- 
son's  sneaked  guiltily  down  to  the  creek. 

For  many  days  the  boys  hung  about  the  camp's  single 
street  every  morning,  unwilling  to  go  to  work  until  they 
had  seen  Mrs.  Blizzer  appear  in  front  of  the  sick  man's  hut. 
The  boys  took  turns  at  carrying  water,  making  fires,  and 
serving  Mrs.  Blizzer  generally,  and  even  paid  handsomely 
for  the  chance. 

One  morning  Mrs.  Blizzer  failed  to  appear  at  the  usual 
hour.  The  boys  walked  about  nervously — they  smoked 
many  pipes,  and  took  hurried  drinks,  and  yet  she  did  not 
appear.  The  boys  looked  suggestingly  at  her  husltend,  and 
he  himself  appeared  to  be  anxious;  but  being  one  of  the 
shiftless  kind,  he  found  anxiety  far  easier  than  action. 

Suddenly  Arkansas  Bill  remarked,  "  I  can't  stan'  it  any 
longer,"  and  walked  rapidly  toward  the  sick  man's  hut,  and 
knocked  lightly  on  the  door,  and  looked  in.  There  lay  the 
sick  man,  his  eyes  partly  open,  and  on  the  ground,  appar- 
ently asleep,  and  with  a  very  purple  face,  lay  Mrs.  Blizzer. 

"  Do  somethin'  for  her,"  gasped  the  sick  man ;  "  give 
her  a  chance,  for  God's  sake.  I  don't  know  how  long  I've 
been  here,  but  I  kind  o'  woke  up  las'  night  ez  ef  I'd  been 

16 


242 


THE  NURSE  A  PATIENT. 


asleep ;  slie  wuz  a-standin'  lookin'  in  my  eyes,  an'  lied  a  lian* 
on  my  cheek.     '  I  b'lieve  it's  turned,'  sez  she,  still  a-lookin'. 
After  a  bit  she  sez :  '  It's  turned  sure,'  an'  all  of  a  sudden 
she  tumbled.     I  couldn't  holler — I  wish  to  God  I  could." 
Arkansas  Bill  opened  the  door,  and  called  Blizzer,  and 


ARKANSAS  BILL  KNOCKED  LIGHTLY  ON  THS  IX)OR,  AND  LOOKED  IN.  THERE  LAY 
THS  SICK  MAN,  HIS  EYES  PARTLY  OPEN,  f*$D  ON  THE  G BOUND,  APPARENTLY 
ASLEEP,  AND  WITH  PURPLE  FACE,  LAY  MRd.  .7LIZZEB. 

the  crowd  followed  Blizzer,  though  at  a  respectful  distance. 
In  a  moment  Blizzer  reappeared  with  his  wife,  no  longer 
fat,  in  his  arms,  and  Arkansas  Bill  hurried  on  to  open  Bliz- 
zer's  door.  The  crowd  halted,  and  didn't  know  what  to  do, 
until  Moosoo,  the  little  Frenchman,  lifted  his  hat,  upon, 
which  every  man  promptly  uncovered  his  bead 


!  THE  FEVER'S  BROKE!"  243 

A  moment  later  Arkansas  Bill  was  on  Sim  Bipson's 
horse,  and  galloping  off  for  a  doctor,  and  Sim  Kipson,  who 
had  always  threatened  sudden  death  to  any  one  touching 
his  beloved  animal,  saw  him,  and  refrained  even  from  pro- 
fanity. The  doctor  came,  and  the  boys  crowded  the  door 
to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

"Hum  !"  said  the  doctor,  a  rough  miner  himself,  "new 
arrival — been  fat — worn  out — rainy  season  just  coming  on — 
not  much  chance.  No  business  to  come  to  California — 
ought  to  have  had  sense  enough  to  stay  home." 

"Look  a'  here,  doctor,"  said  Arkansas  Bill,  indignantly; 
"  she's  got  this  way  a-nussin'  a  feller — stranger,  too — that 
ev'ry  man  in  camp  wuz  afeard  to  go  nigh." 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  asked  the  doctor,  in  a  tone  considerably 
softened ;  "  then  she  shall  get  well,  if  my  whole  time  and 
attention  can  bring  it  about." 

The  sick  woman  lay  in  a  burning  fever  for  days,  and  the 
boys  industriously  drank  her  health,  and  bet  heavy  odds 
on  her  recovery.  No  singing  was  allowed  anywhere  in 
camp,  and  when  an  old  feud  broke  out  afresh  between  two 
miners,  and  they  drew  their  pistols,  a  committee  was  ap- 
pointed to  conduct  them  at  least  two  miles  from  camp,  be- 
fore allowing  them  to  shoot. 

The  Sundays  were  allowed  to  pass  in  the  commonplace 
quietness  peculiar  to  the  rest  of  the  week,  and  men  who 
were  unable  to  forego  their  regular  weekly  spree  were  com- 
pelled to  emigrate.  Sim  Ripson,  though  admitting  that  the 
change  was  decidedly  injurious  to  his  business,  declared 
that  he  would  cheerfully  be  ruined  in  business  rather  than 
have  that  woman  disturbed ;  he  was  ever  heard  to  say  that, 
though  of  course  there  was  no  such  place  as  heaven,  there 
ought  to  be,  for  such  women. 

One  evening,  as  the  crowd  were  quietly  drinking  and  bet- 
ting, Arkansas  Bill  suddenly  opened  the  door  of  the  store, 
and  cried  :  "  She's  mendin' !  The  fever's  broke— 'sh-h !" 

"  My  treat,  boys,"  said  Sim  Eipson,  hurrying  glasses  and 
favorite  bottles  on  the  bar. 


244  "  HERE'S  TO  BUZZER'S  WIFE/' 

The  boys  were  just  clinking  glasses  with  Blizzer  him- 
self, who,  during  his  wife's  absence  and  illness,  had  drifted 
back  to  the  store,  when  Arkansas  Bill  again  opened  the 
door. 

"She's  a-sinkin',  all  of  a  sudden !"  he  gasped.  "  Blizzer, 
yer  wanted." 

The  two  men  hurried  away,  and  the  crowd  poured  out 
of  the.  store.  By  the  light  of  a  fire  in  front  of  the  hut  in 
which  the  sick  woman  lay,  they  saw  Blizzer  enter,  and 
Arkansas  Bill  remain  outside  the  hut,  near  the  door. 

The  boys  stood  on  one  foot,  put  their  hands  into  their 
pockets  and  took  them  out  again,  snapped  their  fingers,  and 
looked  at  each  other,  as  if  they  wanted  to  talk  about  some- 
thing that  they  couldn't.  Suddenly  the  doctor  emerged 
from  the  hut,  and  said  something  to  Arkansas  Bill,  and  the 
boys  saw  Arkansas  Bill  put  both  hands  up  to  his  face. 
Then  the  boys  knew  that  their  sympathy  could  help  Bliz- 
zer's  wife  no  longer. 

Slowly  the  crowd  re-entered  the  store,  and  mechanically 
picked  up  the  yet  untasted  glasses.  Sim  Eipson  filled  a 
glass  for  himself,  looked  a  second  at  the  crowd,  and  dropping 
his  eyes,  raised  them  again,  looked  as  if  he  had  something 
to  say,  looked  intently  into  his  glass,  as  if  espying  some 
irregularity,  looked  up  again,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Boys,  it's  no  use — mebbe  ther's  no  hell — mebbe  the 
Bible  contradicts  itself,  but — but  ther  is  a  heaven,  or  such 
folks  would  never  git  their  just  dues.  Here's  to  Blizzer's 
wife,  the  best  man  in  camp,  an'  may  the  Lord  send  us  some- 
body like  her !" 

In  silence,  and  with  uncovered  heads,  was  the  toast 
drank ;  and  for  many  days  did  the  boys  mourn  for  her 
whose  advent  brought  them  such  disappointment. 


A  BOAEDING-HOUSE  EOMANCE. 

I  KEEP  a  boarding-house. 
If  any  fair  proportion  of  my  readers  were  likely  to  be 
members  of  my  own  profession,!  should  expect  the  above  an- 
nouncement to  call  forth  more  sympathetic  handkerchiefs 
than  have  waved  in  unison  for  many  a  day.  But  I  don't  expect 
anything  of  the  sort ;  I  know  my  business  too  well  to  sup- 
pose for  a  moment  that  any  boarding-house  proprietor,  no 
matter  how  full  her  rooms,  or  how  good  pay  her  boarders 
are,  ever  finds  time  to  read  a  story.  Even  if  they  did,  they'd 
be  so  lost  in  wonder  at  one  of  themselves  finding  time  to 
write  a  story,  that  they'd  forget  the  whole  plot  and  point  of 
the  thing. 

I  can't  help  it,  though — I  must  tell  about  poor  dear  Mrs. 
Perry,  even  if  I  run  the  risk  of  cook's  overdoing  the  beef,  so 
that  Mr.  Bluff,  who  is  English,  and  the  best  of  pay,  can't 
get  the  rare  cut  he  loves  so  well.  Mrs.  Perry's  story  has 
run  in  my  head  so  long,  that  it  has  made  me  forget  to  take 
change  from  the  grocer  at  le/ist  once  to  my  knowledge,  and 
even  made  me  lose  a  good  boarder,  by  showing  a  room  before 
the  bed  was  made  up.  They  say  that  poets  get  things  out  of 
their  heads  by  writing  them  down,  and  I  don't  know  why 
boarding-house  keepers  can't  do  the  same  thing. 

It's  about  three  months  since  Mrs.  Perry  came  here  to 
board.  I'm  very  sure  about  the  time,  and  it  was  the  day  I 
was  to  pay  my  quarter's  rent,  and  to-morrow  will  be  quar- 
ter-day again ;  thank  the  Lord  I've  got  the  money  ready. 

I  didn't  have  the  money  ready  then,  though,  and  the 
landlord  left  his  temper  behind  him,  instead  of  a  receipt, 

245 


"246  THE  NEW  BOARDER. 

and  I  was  just  having  a  little  cry  in  my  apron,  and  asking 
the  Lord  why  it  was  that  a  poor  lone  woman  who  was  work- 
ing her  finger-ends  off  should  have  such  a  hard  time,  when 
the  door-bell  rang. 

"  That's  the  landlord  again.  I  know  his  ways,  the  mean 
wretch !"  said  I  to  myself,  hastily  rubbing  my  eyes  dry,  and 
making  up  before  the  mirror  in  the  hat- tree  as  fierce  a  face 
as  I  could.  Then  I  snatched  open  the  door,  and  tried  to 
make  believe  my  heart  ivasn't  in  my  mouth. 

But  the  landlord  wasn't  there,  and  I've  always  been  a 
little  sorry,  for  I  was  looking  so  savage,  that  a  wee  little 
woman,  who  ivas  at  the  door,  trembled  all  over,  and  started 
to  go  down  the  steps. 

"  Don't  go,  ma'am,"  I  said,  very  quickly,  with  the  best 
smile  I  could  put  on  (and  I  think  I've  been  long  enough  in  the 
business  to  give  the  right  kind  of  a  smile  to  a  person  that 
looks  like  a  new  boarder).  "  Don't  go — I  thought  it  was — I 
thought  it  was — somebody  else  that  rang.  Come  in,  do." 

She  looked  as  if  I  was  doing  her  a  great  honor,  and  I 
thought  that  looked  like  poor  pay,  but  I  was  too  glad  at  not 
seeing  the  landlord  just  then  to  care  if  I  did  lose  one 
week's  board ;  besides,  she  didn't  look  as  if  she  could  eat 
much. 

"  I  see  you  advertise  a  small  bedroom  to  let,"  said  she, 
looking  appealing-like,  as  if  she  was  going  to  beat  me  down 
on  the  strength  of  being  poor.  "How  much  is  it  a  week?" 
.  "Eight  dollars,"  said  I,  rather  shortly.  Seven  dollars 
was  all  I  expected  to  get,  but  I  put  on  one,  so  as  to  be 
beaten  down  without  losing  anything.  "I  can  get  eight 
from  a  single  gentleman,  the  only  objection  being  that  he 
wants  to  keep  a  dog  in  the  back  yard." 

"  Oh,  I'll  pay  it,"  said  she,  quickly  taking  out  her  pocket- 
book.  "  I'll  take  it  for  six  weeks,  anyhow." 

I  never  felt  so  ashamed  of  myself  in  my  life.  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  read  a  penitential  passage  of  Scripture  as  soon 
as  I  closed  the  bargain  with  her,  but,  remembering  the  Book 
says  to  be  reconciled  to  your  brother  before  laying  your 


I  KNEW   HER  WHOLE   STORY.  247 

gift  on  the  altar,  I  says,  quick  as  I  could,  for  fear  tliat  if  I 
thought  over  it  again  I  couldn't  be  honest : 

"  You  shall  have  it  for  seven,  my  dear  madame,  if  you're 
going  to  stay  so  long,  and  I'll  do  your  washing  without 
extra  charge." 

This  last  I  said  to  punish  myself  for  suspecting  an  inno- 
cent little  lady. 

"Oh,  thank  you — thank  you  very  much,"  said  she,  and 
then  she  began  to  cry. 

I  knew  that  wasn't  for  effect,  for  we  were  already  agreed 
on  terms,  and  she  had  her  pocketbook  open  showing  more 
money  that  /  ever  have  at  a  time,  unless  it's  rent-day. 

She  tried  to  stop  crying  by  burying  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  it  made  her  look  so  much  smaller  and  so  pitiful 
that  I  picked  her  right  up,  as  if  she  was  a  baby,  and  kissed 
her.  Then  she  cried  harder,  and  I — a  woman  over  forty, 
too — couldn't  find  anything  better  to  do  than  to  cry  with 
her. 

I  knew  her  whole  story  within  five  minutes — knew  it 
perfectly  well  before  I'd  fairly  shown  her  the  room  and  got 
it  aired. 

They  were  from  the  West,  and  had  been  married  about 
a  year.  She  hadn't  a  relative  in  the  world,  but  his  folks  had 
friends  in  Philadelphia,  so  he'd  got  a  place  as  clerk  in  a  big 
clothing  factory,  at  twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year.  They'd 
been  keeping  house,  just  as  cozy  as  could  be  in  four  rooms, 
and  were  as  happy  as  anybody  in  the  world,  when  one  night 
he  didn't  come  home. 

She  Was  almost  frantic  about  him  all  night  long,  and  first 
thing  in  the  morning  she  was  at  the  factory.  She  waited 
until  all  the  clerks  got  there,  but  George — his  name  was 
George  Perry — didn't  come.  The  proprietor  was  a  good- 
hearted  man,  and  went  with  her  to  the  police-office,  and  they 
telegraphed  all  over  the  city ;  but  there  didn't  seem  to  be 
any  such  man  found  dead  or  drunk,  or  arrested  for  any- 
thing. 

She  hadn't  heard  a  word  from  him  since.    Her  husband's 


24:8  "I'LL  GO  TO  THE  POORHOUSE  FIRST." 

family's  friends  were  rich — the  stuck  up  brutes  ! — but  they 
seemed  to  be  annoyed  by  her  coming  so  often  to  ask  if  there 
wasn't  any  other  way  of  looking  for  him,  so  she,  like  the 
modest,  frightened  little  thing  she  was,  staid  away  from 
them.  Then  somebody  told  her  that  New  York  was  the 
place  everybody  went  to,  so  she  sold  all  her  furniture  and 
pawned  almost  all  her  clothes,  and  came  to  New  York  Vth 
about  fifty  dollars  in  her  pocket. 

"  What  I'll  do  when  that's  gone  I  don't  know,"  said  she, 
commencing  to  cry  again,  "  unless  I  find  George.  I  won't 
live  on  you,  though,  ma'am,"  she  said,  lifting  her  face  up 
quickly  out  of  her  handkerchief;  "  I  won't,  indeed.  I'll  go  to 
the  poorhouse  first.  But " 

iThen  she  cried  worse  than  before,  and  I  cried,  too,  and 
took  her  in  my  arms,  and  called  her  a  poor  little  thing,  and 
told  her  she  shouldn't  go  to  any  poorhouse,  but  should  stay 
with  me  and  be  my  daughter. 

I  don't  know  how  I  came  to  say  it,  for,  goodness  knows, 
I  find  it  hard  enough  to  keep  out  of  the  poorhouse  myself, 
but  I  did  say  it,  and  I  meant  it,  too. 

Her  things  were  all  in  a  little  valise,  and  she  soon  had 
the  room  to  rights,  and  when  I  went  up  again  in  a  few  minutes 
to  carry  her  a  cup  of  tea,  she  pointed  to  her  husband's  pic- 
ture which  she  had  hung  on  the  wall,  and  asked  me  if  I  didn't 
think  he  was  very  handsome. 

I  said  yes,  but  I'm  glad  she  looked  at  the  tea  instead  of 
me,  for  I  believe  she'd  seen  by  my  face  that  I  didn't  like  her 
George.  The  fact  is,  men  look  very  differently  to  their 
wives  or  sweethearts  than  they  do  to  older  people  and  to 
boarding-house  keepers.  There  was  nothing  vicious  about 
George  Perry's  face,  but  if  he'd  been  a  boarder  of  mine,  I'd 
have  insisted  on  my  board  promptly — not  for  fear  of  his 
trying  to  cheat  me,  but  because  if  he  saw  anything  else  he 
wanted,  he'd  spend  his  money  without  thinking  of  what  he 
owed. 

I  felt  so  certain  that  he'd  got  into  some  mischief  or 
trouble,  and  was  afraid  or  ashamed  to  come  back  to  his  wife, 


GEOEGE  PERKY,  AND  NO  MISTAKE.  249 

/ 

that  I  risked  the  price  of  three  ribs  of  prime  roasting  beef 
in  the  following  "  Personal "  advertisement : 

"GEORGE  P. — Your  wife  don't  know  anything  about  it, 
and  is  dying  to  see  you.  Answer  through  Personals." 

But  no  answer  came,  and  his  wife  grew  more  and  more 
poorly,  and  I  couldn't  help  seeing  what  was  the  matter  with 
her.  Then  her  money  ran  out,  and  she  talked  of  going  away, 
but  I  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  I  just  took  her  to  my  own  room, 
which  was  the  back  parlor,  and  told  her  she  wasn't  to  think 
again  of  going  away ;  that  she  was  to  be  my  daughter,  and  I 
would  be  her  mother,  until  she  found  George  again. 

I  was  afraid,  for  her  sake,  that  it  meant  we  were  to  be 
with  each  other  for  ever,  for  there  was  no  sign  of  George. 

She  wrote  to  his  family  in  the  West,  but  they  hadn't 
heard  anything  from  him  or  about  him,  and  they  took  pains 
not  to  invite  her  there,  or  even  to  say  anything  about  giving 
her  a  helping  hand. 

There  was  only  one  thing  left  to  do,  and  that  was  to 
pray,  and  pray  I  did,  more  constantly  and  earnestly  than  I 
ever  did  before,  although,  the  good  Lord  knows  there  have 
been  times,  about  quarter-day,  when  I  haven't  kept  much 
peace  before  the  Throne. 

Finally,  one  day  Mrs.  Perry  was  taken  unusually  bad, 
and  the  doctor  had  to  be  sent  for  in  a  hurry.  We  were  in 
her  room — the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Perry  and  I — I  was  endeavor- 
ing to  comfort  and  strengthen  the  poor  thing,  when  the  ser- 
vant knocked,  and  said  a  lady  and  gentleman  had  come  to 
look  at  rooms. 

I  didn't  dare  to  lose  boarders,  for  I'd  had  three  empty 
rooms  for  a  month,  so  I  hurried  into  the  parlor.  I  was 
almost  knocked  down  for  a  second,  for  the  gentleman  was 
George  Perry,  and  no  mistake,  if  the  picture  his  wife  had 
was  to  be  trusted. 

In  a  second  more  I  was  cooler  and  clearer-headed  than 
I  ever  was  in  my  life  before.  I  felt  more  like  an  angel  of 
the  Lord  than  a  boarding-house  keeper. 


250  "GOOD  GOD!  WHO'S  THAT?" 

"  Kate,'  said  I,  to  the  servant  "  show  the  lady  all  the 
rooms." 

Kate  stared,  for  I'd  never  trusted  her,  or  any  other 
girl,  with  such  important  work,  and  she  knew  it.  She  went 
though,  followed  by  the  lady,  who,  though  she  seemed  a 
weak,  silly  sort  of  thing,  I  hated  with  all  my  might.  Then  I 
turned  quickly,  and  said  : 

"Don't  you  want  a  room  for  your  wife,  too,  George 
Perry?" 

He  stared  at  me  a  moment,  and  then  turned  pale  and 
looked  confused.  Then  he  tried  to  rally  himself,  and  he 
said : 

"  You  seem  to  know  me,  ma'am." 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "and  I  know  Mrs.  Perry,  too;  and  if 
ever  a  woman  needed  her  husband  she  does  now,  even  if  her 
husband  is  a  rascal." 

He  tried  to  be  angry,  but  he  couldn't.  He  walked  up 
and  down  the  room  once  or  twice,  his  face  twitching  all  the 
time,  and  then  he  said,  a  word  or  two  at  a  time  : 

"  I  wish  I  could — poor  girl ! — God  forgive  me  ! — what 
can  I  do  ? — I  wish  I  was  dead !" 

"  You  wouldn't  be  any  use  to  anybody  then  but  the  Evil 
One,  George  Perry,  and  you're  not  ready  to  see  him  just 
yet,"  said  I. 

Just  then  there  came  a  low,  long  groan  from  the  back- 
room, and  at  the  same  time  some  one  came  into  the  parlor. 
I  was  too  excited  to  notice  who  it  was ;  and  George  Perry, 
when  he  heard  the  groan,  stopped  short  and  exclaimed : 

"Good  God!  who's  that?" 

"Your  wife,"  said  I,  almost  ready  to  scream,  I  was  so 
wrought  up. 

He  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  trembled  all  over. 

There  was  half  a  minute's  silence — it  seemed  half  an 
hour — and  then  we  heard  a  long,  thin  wail  from  a  voice 
that  hadn't  ever  been  heard  on  earth  before. 

f<  What's  that  ?"  said  Perry,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  his  eyes 
almost  starting  out  of  his  head,  and  hands  thrown  up. 


THE   BABY   FINDS   HIS   FATHER.  251 

"  Tour  baby — just  born,"  said  I.  "  Will  you  take  rooms 
for  your  family  notv,  George  Perry  ?"  I  asked. 

"/sha'n't  stand  in  the  way,"  said  a  voice  behind  me. 

I  turned  around  quickly,  just  in  time  to  see,  with  her 
eyes  full  of  tears,  the  woman  who  had  come  with  George  go 
out  the  door  and  shut  the  hall-door  behind  her. 

"Thank  God  !"  said  George,  dropping  on  his  knees. 

"Amen!"  said  I,  hurrying  out  of  the  parlor  and  locking 
the  door  hehind  me. 

I  thought  if  he  wanted  to  pray  while  on  his  knees  he 
shouldn't  be  disturbed,  while  if  he  should  suddenly  be 
tempted  to  follow  his  late  companion,  /  shouldn't  be  held 
at  the  Judgment  day  for  any  share  of  the  guilt. 

I  found  the  doctor  bustling  about,  getting  ready  to  go, 
and  Mrs.  Perry  looking  very  peaceful  and  happy,  with  a 
little  bundle  hugged  up  close  to  her. 

"I  guess  the  Lord  will  bring  him  now,"  said  Mrs.  Perry, 
"  if  it's  only  to  see  his  little  boy." 

"  Like  enough,  my  dear,"  said  I,  thanking  the  Lord  for 
opening  the  question,  for  my  wits  were  all  gone  by  this 
time,  and  I  hadn't  any  more  idea  of  what  to  do  than  the 
man  in  the  moon  ;  "but,"  g&id  I,  "He  won't  bring  him  till 
you're  well,  and  able  to  bear  the  excitement." 

"Oh,  I  could  bear  it  any  time  now,"  said  she,  very 
<?almly,  "It  would  seem  just  as  natural  as  could  be  to 
have  him  come  in  and  kiss  me,  and  see  his  baby  and  bless 
it." 

"Would  it?"  I  asked,  with  my  heart  all  in  a  dance. 
"  Well,  trust  the  Lord  to  do  just  what's  right." 

I  hurried  out  and  opened  the  parlor-door.  There  stood 
George  Perry,  changed  so  I  hardly  knew  him.  He  seemed 
years  older  ;  his  thick  lips  seemed  to  have  suddenly  grown 
thin,  and  were  pressed  tightly  together,  and  there  was  such 
an  appealing  look  from  his  eyes. 

"  Be  very  careful  now,"  I  whispered,  and  you  may  see 
them.  She  expects  you,  and  don't  imagine  anything  has 
gone  wrong." 


252  ABSENCE  FORGOTTEN. 

I  took  him  into  the  room,  and  she  looked  up  with  a  face 
like  what  I  hope  the  angels  have.  I  didn't  see  anything 
more,  for  my  eyes  filled  up  all  of  a  sudden,  so  I  hurried  up- 
stairs into  an  empty  room,  and  spent  half  an  hour  crying 
and  thanking  the  Lord. 

There  was  a  pretty  to-do  at  the  dinner  table  that  day. 
I'd  intended  to  have  souffle  for  desert,  and  I  always  make 
my  own  souffles  ;  but  I  forgot  everything  but  the  Perrys,  and 
the  boarders  grumbled  awfully.  I  didn't  care,  though ;  I 
was  too  happy  to  feel  abused. 

>•!  don't  know  how  George  Perry  explained  his  absence 
to  his  wife ;  perhaps  he  hasn't  done  it  at  all.  But  I  know 
she  seems  to  be  the  happiest  woman  alive,  and  that  he  don't 
seem  to  care  for  anything  in  the  world  but  his  wife  and 
baby. 

As  to  the  woman  who  came  with  him  to  look  at  a  room, 
I  haven't  seen  her  since  ;  but  if  she  happens  to  read  this 
story,  she  may  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  there's 
an  old  woman  who  remembers  her  one  good  deed,  and  prays 
for  her  often  and  earnestly. 


EETIKING  FEOM   BUSINESS. 

Til  THAT  the  colonel's  business  was  nobody  knew,  nor  did 
Y\     any  one  care,  particularly.     He  purchased  for  cash 
only,  and  he  never  grumbled  at  the  price  of  anything  that 
he  wanted ;  who  could  ask  more  than  that  ? 

Curious  people  occasionally  wondered  how,  when  it  had 
been  fully  two  years  since  the  colonel,  with  every  one  else, 
abandoned  Duck  Creek  to  the  Chinese,  he  managed  to 
spend  money  freely,  and  to  lose  considerable  at  cards  and 
horse-races.  In  fact,  the  keeper  of  that  one  of  the  two 
Challenge  Hill  saloons  which  the  colonel  did  not  patronize 
was  once  heard  to  absentmindedly  wonder  whether  the 
colonel  hadn't  a  money-mill  somewhere,  where  he  turned 
out  double-eagles  and  "slugs"  (the  Coast  name  for  fifty- 
dollar  gold-pieces). 

'  When  so  important  a  personage  as  a  barkeeper  indulged 
publicly  in  an  idea,  the  inhabitants  of  Challenge  Hill,  like 
good  Californians  everywhere,  considered  themselves  in 
duty  bound  to  give  it  grave  consideration ;  so,  for  a  few  days, 
certain  industrious  professional  gentlemen,  who  won  money 
of  the  colonel,  carefully  weighed  some  of  the  brightest 
pieces  and  tested  them  with  acids,  and  tasted  them  and 
sawed  them  in  two,  and  retried  them  and  melted  them  up, 
and  had  the  lumps  assayed. 

The  result  was  a  complete  vindication  of  the  colonel, 
and  a  loss  of  considerable  custom  to  the  indiscreet  bar- 
keeper. 

The  colonel  was  as  good-natured  a  man  as  had  ever  been 

253 


254  INCONTROVERTIBLE  PROPOSITIONS. 

known  at  Challenge  Hill,  but,  being  mortal,  the  colonel  had 
his  occasional  times  of  despondency,  and  one  of  them 
occurred  after  a  series  of  races,  in  which  he  had  staked  his 
all  on  his  own  bay  mare  Tipsie,  and  had  lost. 

Looking  reproachfully  at  his  beloved  animal  failed  to  heal 
the  aching  void  of  his  pockets,  and  drinking  deeply,  swear- 
ing eloquently  and  glaring  defiantly  at  all  mankind,  were 
equally  unproductive  of  coin. 

The  boys  at  the  saloon  sympathized  most  feelingly  with 
the  colonel;  they  were  unceasing  in  their  invitations  to 
drink,  and  they  even  exhibited  considerable  Christian  for- 
bearance when  the  colonel  savagely  dissented  with  every 
one  who  advanced  any  proposition,  no  matter  how  incon- 
trovertible. 

But  unappreciated  sympathy  grows  decidedly  tiresome 
to  the  giver,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  the 
boys  saw  the  colonel  stride  out  of  the  saloon,  mount  Tipsie, 
and  gallop  furiously  away. 

Riding  on  horseback  has  always  been  considered  an  ex- 
cellent sort  of  exercise,  and  fast  riding  is  universally  ad- 
mitted to  be  one  of  the  most  healthful  and  delightful  means 
of  exhilaration  in  the  world. 

But  when  a  man  is  so  absorbed  in  his  exercise  that  he 
will  not  stop  to  speak  to  a  friend;  and  when  his  exhilaration 
is  so  complete  that  he  turns  his  eyes  from  well-meaning 
thumbs  pointing  significantly  into  doorways  through  which 
a  man  has  often  passed  while  seeking  bracing  influences,  it 
is  but  natural  that  people  should  express  some  wonder. 

The  colonel  was  well  known  at  Toddy  Flat,  Lone  Hand, 
Blazers,  Murderer's  Bar,  and  several  other  villages  through 
which  he  passed,  and  as  no  one  had  been  seen  to  precede 
him,  betting  men  were  soon  offering  odds  that  the  colonel 
was  running  away  from  somebody. 

Strictly  speaking  they  were  wrong,  but  they  won  all 
the  money  that  had  been  staked  against  them ;  .for  within 
half  an  hour's  time  there  passed  over  the  same  road  an 
anxious-looking  individual,  who  reined  up  in  front  of  the 


OFF  THE  TBAOK.  255 

principal  saloon  of  each  place,  and  asked  if  the  colonel  had 
passed. 

Had  the  gallant  colonel  known  that  he  was  followed, 
and  by  whom,  there  would  have  been  an  extra  election  held 
at  the  latter  place  very  shortly  after,  for  the  colonel's  pur- 
suer was  no  other  than  the  constable  of  Challenge  Hill,  and 
for  constables  and  all  other  officers  of  the  law  the  colonel 
possessed  hatred  of  unspeakable  intensity. 

On  galloped  the  colonel,  following  the  stage-road,  which 
threaded  the  old  mining  camps  on  Duck  Creek ;  but  sud- 
denly he  turned  abruptly  out  of  the  road,  and  urged  his 
horse  through  the  young  pines  and  bushes,  which  grew 
thickly  by  the  road,  while  the  constable  galloped  rapidly 
on  to  the  next  camp. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  path  through  the  thicket  into 
which  the  colonel  had  turned,  but  Tipsie  walked  between 
trees  and  bushes  as  if  they  were  but  the  familiar  objects  of 
her  own  stable-yard. 

Suddenly  a  voice  from  the  bushes  shouted : 

"What's  up?" 

"  Business — that's  what,"  replied  the  coloneL 

"  It's  time,"  replied  the  voice,  and  its  owner — a  bearded 
six-footer — emerged  from  the  bushes,  and  stroked  Tipsie's 
nose  with  the  freedom  of  an  old  acquaintance.  "  We  hain't 
had  a  nip  sence  last  night,  an'  thar'  ain't  a  cracker  or  a 
handful  of  flour  in  the  shanty.  The  old  gal  go  back  on  yer  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  colonel,  ruefully — lost  ev'ry  blasted 
race.  'Twasn't  Tier  fault,  bless  her — she  done  her  level  best. 
Everybody  to  home  ?" 

"  You  bet,"  said  the  man.  "  All  ben  a-prayin'  for  yer  to 
turn  up  with  the  rocks,  an'  somethin'  with  more  color  than 
spring  water.  Come  on." 

The  man  led  the  way,  and  Tipsie  and  the  colonel  fol- 
lowed, and  the  trio  suddenly  found  themselves  before  a 
small  log  hut,  in  front  of  which  sat  three  solemn,  discon- 
solate-looking individuals,  who  looked  appealingly  at  the 
coloneL 


256  SERMONS  THAT  WERE  A  COMFORT. 

"  Mac'll  tell  yer  how  'twas,  fellers,"  said  the  colonel, 
meekly,  "  while  I  picket  the  mare." 

The  colonel  was  absent  but  a  very  few  moments,  but 
when  he  returned  each  of  the  four  men  was  attired  in  pis- 
tols and  knives,  while  Mac  was  distributing  some  dominoes, 
made  from  a  rather  dirty  flour-bag. 

"  'Tain't  so  late  as  all  that,  is  it  ?"  inquired  the  colonel. 

"  Better  be  an  hour  ahead  than  miss  it  this  'ere  night," 
said  one  of  the  four.  "  I  ain't  been  so  thirsty  sence  I  come 
round  the  Horn,  in  '50,  an'  we  run  short  of  water.  Some- 
body'll  get  hurt  ef  thar'  ain't  no  bitters  on  the  old  concern — 
they  will,  or  my  name  ain't  Perkins." 

"Don't  count  yer  chickings  'fore  they're  hetched, 
Perky,"  said  one  of  the  party,  as  he  adjusted  his  domino 
under  the  rim  of  his  hat.  "  'S'posin'  ther'  shud  be  too 
many  for  us  ?" 

"  Stiddy,  Cranks !"  remonstrated  the  colonel.  "  Nobody 
ever  gets 'along  ef  they 'low 'emselves  to  be  skeered." 

"  Fact,"  chimed  in  the  smallest  and  thinnest  man  of  the 
party.  "  The  Bible  says  somethin'  mighty  hot  'bout  that. 
I  disremember  dzackly  how  it  goes ;  but  I've  heerd  Parson 
Buzzy,  down  in  Maine,  preach  a  rippin'  old  sermon  from 
that  text  many  a  time.  The  old  man  never  thort  what  a 
comfort  them  sermons  wus  a-goin'  to  be  to  a  road-agent, 
though.  That  time  we  stopped  Slim  Mike's  stage,  an'  he 
didn't  hev  no  more  manners  than  to  draw  on  me,  them  ser- 
mons wus  a  perfec'  blessin'  to  me — the  thought  uv  'em 
cleared  my  head  ez  quick  ez  a  cocktail.  An' " 

"  I  don't  want  to  disturb  Logroller's  pious  yarn,"  inter- 
rupted the  colonel ;  "  but  ez  it's  Old  Black  that's  drivin'  to- 
day instid  of  Slim  Mike,  an'  ez  Old  Black  oilers  makes  his 
time,  hedn't  we  better  vamose  ?" 

The  door  of  the  shanty  was  hastily  closed,  and  the  men 
filed  through  the  thicket  until  near  the  road,  when  they 
marched  rapidly  on  parallel  lines  with  it.  After  about  half 
an  hour,  Perkins,  who  was  leading,  halted,  and  wiped  his 
perspiring  brow  with  his  shirt-sleeve. 


A  CHANCE  TO   EXEKCISE   WOMEN'S   BIGHTS.  257 

"  Fur  enough  from  home  now,"  said  he.  "  'Tain't  no  use 
bein'  a  gentleman  ef  yer  hev  to  work  too  hard." 

"Safe  enough,  I  reckon,"  replied  the  colonel.  "  We'll  do 
the  usual ;  I'll  halt  'em,  Logroller'll  tend  to  the  driver, 
Cranks  takes  the  boot,  an'  Mac  an'  Perk  takes  right  an'  left. 
An' — I  know  it's  tough — but  consid'rin'  how  everlastin' 
eternally  hard  up  we  are,  I  reckon  we'll  have  to  ask  contri- 
butions from  the  ladies,  too,  ef  ther's  any  aboard — eh, 
boy?" 

"Beckon  so,"  replied  Logroller,  with  a  chuckle  that 
seemed  to  inspire  even  his  black  domino  with  a  merry 
wrinkle  or  two.  "  What's  the  use  of  women's  rights  ef 
they  don't  ever  hev  a  chance  of  exercisin'  'em?  Hevin' 
ther  purses  borrowed  'ud  show  'em  the  hull  doctrine  in  a 
bran-new  light." 

"  They're  treacherous  critters,  women  is,"  remarked 
Cranks ;  "  some  of  'em  might  put  a  knife  into  a  feller  while 
he  was  'pologizin'." 

"  Ef  you're  afeard  of  'em,"  said  Perkins,  "  you  ken  go 
back  an'  clean  up  the  shanty." 

"  Reminds  me  of  what  the  Bible  sez,"  said  Logroller ; 
"'there's  a  lion  on  the  trail ;  I'll  be  chawed  up,  sez  the  lazy 
galoot,'  ur  words  to  that  effect." 

"  Come,  come  boys,"  interposed  the  colonel ;  "  don't  mix 

religion  an'  bizness.  They  don't  mix  no  more  than 

Hello,  thar's  the  crack  of  Old  Black's  whip!  Pick  yer 
bushes — quick !  All  jump  when  I  whistle  !" 

Each  man  secreted  himself  near  the  roadside.  The 
stage  came  swinging  along  handsomely  ;  the  inside  passen- 
gers were  laughing  heartily  about  something,  and  Old  Black 
was  just  giving  a  delicate  touch  to  the  flank  of  the  off 
leader,  when  the  colonel  gave  a  shrill,  quick  whistle,  and 
the  five  men  sprang  into  the  road. 

The  horses  stopped  as  suddenly  as  if  it  was  a  matter  of 
common  occurrence,  Old  Black  dropped  his  reins,  crossed 
his  legs,  and  stared  into  the  sky,  and  the  passengers  all  put 
out  their  heads  with  a  rapidity  equaled  only  by  that  with 

17 


258  DECEITFULNESS  OF  SOME  FOLKS. 

which  they  withdrew  them  as  they  saw  the  dominoes  and 
revolvers  of  the  road-agents. 

"Seems  to  be  something  the  matter,  gentlemen,"  said 
the  colonel,  blandly,  as  he  opened  the  door.  "Won't  you 
please  git  out  ?  Don't  trouble  yourselves  to  draw,  cos  my 
friend  here's  got  his  weapon  cocked,  an'  his  ringers  is  rather 
nervous.  Ain't  got  a  han'kercher,  hev  yer?"  asked  the 
colonel  of  the  first  passenger  who  descended  from  the 
stage.  "Hev?  "Well,  now,  that's  lucky.  Jest  put  yer 
hands  behind  yer,  please — so — that's  it."  And  the  unfor- 
tunate man  was  securely  bound  in  an  instant. 

The  remaining  passengers  were  treated  with  similar 
courtesy,  and  then  the  colonel  and  his  friends  examined  the 
pockets  of  the  captives.  Old  Black  remained  unmolested, 
for  who  ever  heard  of  a  stage-driver  having  money  ? 

"Boys,"  said  the  colonel,  calling  his  brother  agents 
aside,  and  comparing  receipts,  "  'tain't  much  of  a  haul ;  but 
there's  only  one  woman,  an'  she's  old  enough  to  be  a  feller's 
grandmother.  Better  let  her  alone,  eh  ?" 

"  Like  enough  she'll  pan  out  more'n  all  the  rest  of  the 
stage  put  together,"  growled  Cranks,  carefully  testing  the 
thickness  of  case  of  a  gold  watch.  "  Jest  like  the  low-lived 
deceitfulness  of  some  folks,  to  hire  an  old  woman  to  kerry 
ther  money  so  it  'ud  go  safe.  Mebbe  what  she's  got  hain't 
nothin'  to  some  folks  thet's  got  hosses  thet  ken  win  'em 
money  at  races,  but :  . 

The  colonel  abruptly  ended  the  conversation,  and  ap- 
proached the  stage.  The  colonel  was  very  chivalrous,  but 
Cranks's  sarcastic  reference  to  Tipsie  needed  avenging,  and 
as  he  could  not  consistently  with  business  arrangements 
put  an  end  to  Cranks,  the  old  lady  would  have  to  suffer. 

"  I  beg  your  parding,  ma'am,"  said  the  colonel,  raising 
his  hat  politely  with  one  hand,  while  he  reopened  the 
coach-door  with  the  other,  "  but  we're  a-takin1  up  a  collec- 
tion fur  some  very  deservin'  object.  We  wuz  a-goin'  to 
make  the  gentlemen  fork  over  the  hull  amount,  but  ez  they 
hain't  got  enough,  we'll  hev  to  bother  you." 


THE    COLONEL    MAKES    A   DISCOVERY. 


259 


The  old  lady  trembled,  and  felt  for  her  pocketbook,  and 
raised  her  vail.  The  colonel  looked  into  her  face,  slammed 
the  stage-door,  and,  sitting  down  on  the  hub  of  one  of  the 
wheels,  stared  vacantly  iiito  space. 

"  Nothin*  ?"  queried  Perkins,  in  a  whisper,  and  with  a 
face  -iult  of  genuine  sympathy. 

"No — yes,"  said  the  colonel,  dreamily.     "That  is,  untie- 


'eii?    and  let  the  stages  go  ahead,"  he  continued,  springing  to 
his  teet.     "I'll  hurry  back  to  the  cabin." 

And  the  colonel  dashed  into  the  bushes,  and  left  his  fol- 
lowers so  paralyzed  with  astonishment,  that  Old  Black 
afterward  remarked  that,  "  ef  ther'd  ben  anybody  to  hold 
the  hosses,  he  could  hev  cleaned  out  the  hull  crowd  with 
his  whip." 


260  RETIRING  FROM  BIZNESS. 

The  passengers,  now  relieved  of  their  weapons,  were  un- 
bound, and  allowed  to  re-enter  the  stage,  and  the  door  was 
slammed,  upon  which  Old  Black  picked  up  his  reins  as 
coolly  as  if  he  had  merely  laid  them  down  at  the  station 
while  horses  were  being  changed;  then  he  cracked  his 
whip,  and  the  stage  rolled  off,  while  the  colonel's  party  has- 
tened back  to  their  hut,  fondly  inspecting  as  they  went  cer- 
tain flasks  they  had  obtained  while  transacting  their  busi- 
ness with  the  occupants  of  the  stage. 

Great  was  the  surprise  of  the  road-agents  as  they  en- 
tered their  hut,  for  there  stood  the  colonel  in  a  clean  white 
shirt,  and  in  a  suit  of  clothing  made  up  from  the  limited 
spare  wardrobes  of  the  other  members  of  the  gang. 

But  the  suspicious  Cranks  speedily  subordinated  his 
wonder  to  his  prudence,  as,  laying  on  the  table  a  watch, 
two  pistols,  a  pocket-book,  and  a  heavy  purse,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Come,  colonel,  bizness  before  pleasure ;  let's  divide 
an'  scatter.  Ef  anybody  should  hear  'bout  it,  an'  find  our 
trail,  an'  ketch  us  with  the  traps  in  our  possession,  they 
might " 

"  Divide  yerselves !"  said  the  colonel,  with  abruptness 
and  a  great  oath.  "  /don't  want  none  of  it." 

"  Colonel,"  said  Perkins,  removing  his  own  domino,  and 
looking  anxiously  into  the  leader's  face,  "  be  you  sick  ? 
Here's  some  bully  brandy  I  found  in  one  of  the  passengers' 
pockets." 

"  I  hain't  nothin',"  replied  the  colonel.  "  I'm  a-goin',  an' 
I'm  a-retirin'  from  this  bizness  for  ever." 

"  Ain't  a-goin'  to  turn  evidence  ?"  cried  Cranks,  grasping 
the  pistol  on  the  table. 

'"  I'm  a-goin'  to  make  a  lead-mine  of  you  ef  you  don't 
take  that  back !"  roared  the  colonel,  with  a  bound,  which 
caused  Cranks  to  drop  his  pistol,  and  retire  precipitately 
backward,  apologizing  as  he  went  "I'm  goin'  to  tend  to 
my  own  bizness,  and  that's  enough  to  keep  any  man  busy. 
Somebody  lend  me  fifty,  till  I  see  him  again  ?" 


BETTING   ON  THE   COLONEL'S   MOTIVE??.  261 

Perkins  pressed  the  money  into  the  colonel's  hand,  and 
within  two  minutes  the  colonel  was  011  Tipsie's  back,  and 
galloping  on  in  the  direction  the  stage  had  taken. 

He  overtook  it,  he  passed  it,  and  still  he  galloped  on. 
The  people  at  Mud  Gulch  knew  the  colonel  well,  and 
made  it  a  rule  never  to  be  astonished  at  anything  he  did ; 
but  they  made  an  exception  to  the  rule  when  the  colonel 
canvassed  the  principal  bar-rooms  for  men  who  wished  to 
purchase  a  horse ;  and  when  a  gambler,  who  was  flush,  ob- 
tained Tipsie  in  exchange  for  twenty  slugs — only  a  thou- 
sand dollars,  when  the  colonel  had  always  said  that  there 
wasn't  gold  enough  on  top  of  the  ground  to  buy  her — Mud 
Gulch  experienced  a  decided  sensation. 

One  or  two  enterprising  persons  speedily  discovered 
that  the  colonel  was  not  in  a  communicative  mood,  so  every 
one  retired  to  his  favorite  saloon,  and  bet  according  to  his 
own  opinion  of  the  colonel's  motives  and  actions. 

But  when  the  colonel,  after  remaining  in  a  barber-shop 
for  half  an  hour,  emerged  with  his  face  clean  shaven  and 
his  hair  neatly  trimmed  and  parted,  betting  was  so  wild  that 
a  cool-headed  sporting  man  speedily  made  a  fortune  by  bet- 
ting against  every  theory  that  was  advanced. 

Then  the  colonel  made  a  tour  of  the  stores,  and  fitted 
himself  to  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  carefully  eschewing  all  of 
the  generous  patterns  and  pronounced  colors  so  dear  to  the 
average  miner.  He  bought  a  new  hat,  put  on  a  pair  of 
boots,  and  pruned  his  finger-nails,  and,  stranger  than  all,  he 
mildly  but  firmly  declined  all  invitations  to  drink. 

As  the  colonel  stood  in  the  door  of  the  principal  saloon, 
where  the  stage  always  stopped,  the  Challenge  Hill  consta- 
ble was  seen  to  approach  the  colonel,  and  tap  him  on  the 
shoulder,  upon  which  all  men  who  had  bet  that  the  colonel 
was  dodging  somebody  claimed  the  stakes.  But  those  who 
stood  near  the  colonel  heard  the  constable  say : 

"  Colonel,  I  take  it  all  back,  an'  I  own  up  fair  an'  square. 
When  I  seed  you  git  out  of  Challenge  Hill,  it  come  to  me 
all  of  a  sudden  that  you  might  be  in  the  road-agent  busi- 


262  "GEORGE!"  "MOTHER!" 

ness,  so  I  followed  you — duty,  you  know.  But  after  I  seed 
you  sell  Tipsie,  I  knowed  I  was  on  the  wrong  trail.  I 
wouldn't  suspect  you  now  if  all  the  stages  in  the  State  was 
robbed ;  an'  I'll  give  you  satisfaction  any  way  you  want  it" 

"It's  all  right,"  said  the  colonel,  with  a  smile.  The  con- 
stable afterward  said  that  nobody  had  any  idea  of  how  curi- 
ously the  colonel  smiled  when  his  beard  was  off.  "  Give 
this  fifty  to  Jim  Perkins  fust  time  yer  see  him  ?  I'm  leaviu' 
the  State." 

Suddenly  the  stage  pulled  up  at  the  door  with  a  crash, 
and  the  male  passengers  hurried  into  the  saloon,  in  a  state 
of  utter  indignation  and  impecuniosity. 

The  story  of  the  robbery  attracted  everybody,  and  dur- 
ing the  excitement  the  colonel  slipped  quietly  out,  •  and 
opened  the  door  of  the  stage.  The  old  lady  started,  and 
cried  : 

"  George !" 

And  the  colonel,  jumping  into  the  stage,  and  putting  his 
arms  tenderly  about  the  trembling  form  of  the  old  ladv, 
exclaimed : 

"Mother!" 


263 


THE  HAEDHACK  MISTAKE. 

EXCITEMENT  ?  The  venerable  Deacon  Twinkham,  the 
JOj  oldest  inhabitant,  said  there  had  not  been  such  an 
excitement  at  Hardhack  since  the  meeting-house  steeple 
blew  down  in  a  terrible  equinoctial,  forty-seven  years 
before. 

And  who  could  wonder  ? 

Even  a  larger  town  than  Hardhack  would  have  experi- 
enced unusual  agitation  at  seeing  one  of  its  own  boys,  who 
had  a  few  years  before  gone  away  poor,  slender  and  twenty, 
come  back  with  broad  shoulders,  a  full  beard,  and  a  pocket- 
ful of  money,  dug  out  of  the  ugly  hills  of  Nevada. 

But  even  the  return  of  Nathan  Brown,  in  so  unusual  a 
condition  for  a  Hardhackian  to  be  found  in,  was  not  the 
fullness  of  Hardhack's  excitement,  for  Nathan  had  brought 
with  him  Tom  Crewne  and  Harry  Faxton,  two  friends  he 
had  made  during  his  absence,  and  both  of  them  broad- 
shouldered,  full-bearded,  and  auriferous  as  Nathan  himself, 

No  wonder  the  store  at  Hardhack  was  all  the  while 
crowded  with  those  who  knew  all  about  Nathan,  or  wanted 
to — no  wonder  that  "  Seen  'm  ?"  was  the  passing  form  of 
salutation  for  days. 

The  news  spread  like  wildfire,  and  industrious  farmers 
deliberately  took  a  day,  drove  to  town,  and  stood  patiently 
on  the  door-steps  of  the  store  until  they  had  seen  one  or 
more  of  the  wonderful  men. 

The  good  Deacon  Twinkham  himself,  who  had,  at  a  late 
prayer-meeting,  stated  that  "his  feet  already  felt  the 

265 


266  AGITATION   OF   HARDBACK   MAIDENS. 

splashin'  of  Jordan's  waves,"  temporarily  withdrew  his  aged 
limbs  from  the  rugged  banks  famed  in  song,  and  caused 
them  to  bear  him  industriously  up  and  down  the  Kidge 
Road,  past  Nathan's  mother's  house,  until  he  saw  all  three 
of  the  bearded  Croesuses  seat  themselves  on  the  piazza  to 
smoke.  Then  he  departed,  his  good  face  affording  an  excel- 
lent study  for  a  "  Simeon  in  the  Temple." 

Even  the  peaceful  influences  of  the  Sabbath  were  unable 
to  restore  tranquillity  to  Hardhack. 

On  Sunday  morning  the  meeting-house  was  fuller  than 
it  had  been  since  the  funeral  services  of  the  last  pastor.  At 
each  squeak  of  the  door,  every  head  was  quickly  turned ; 
and  when,  in  the  middle  of  the  first  hymn,  the  three  ex- 
miners  filed  decorously  in,  the  staring  organist  held  one 
chord  of  "  Windham"  so  long  that  the  breath  of  the  congre- 
gation was  entirely  exhausted. 

The  very  pulpit  itself  succombed  to  the  popular  excite- 
ment ;  and  the  Reverend  Abednego  Choker,  after  reading  of 
the  treasures  of  Solomon's  Temple,  and  of  the  glories  of  the 
New  Testament,  for  the  first  and  second  lessons,  preached 
from  Isaiah  xlvi.  6  :  "  They  lavish  gold  out  of  the  bag  and 
weigh  silver  in  the  balance." 

But  all  this  excitement  was  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  tumult  which  agitated  the  tender  hearts  of  the  maidens- 
at  Hardhack. 

Young,  old,  handsome,  plain,  smart  and  stupid,  until  now 
few  of  them  had  dared  to  hope  for  a  change  of  name  ;  for, 
while  they  possessed  as  many  mental  and  personal  charms 
as  girls  in  general,  all  the  enterprising  boys  of  Hardhack 
had  departed  from  their  birthplace  in  search  of  the  lucre 
which  Hardhack's  barren  hills  and  lean  meadows  failed  to 
supply,  and  the  cause  of  their  going  was  equally  a  preven- 
tive of  the  coming  of  others  to  fill  their  places. 

But  now — oh,  hope  !— here  were  three  young  men,  good- 
looking,  rich,  and — if  the  other  two  were  fit  companions  for 
the  well-born  and  bred  Nathan — all  safe  custodians  for 
tender  hearts. 


CULTIVATING   THE   THREE   EX-MINERS.  267 

Few  girls  were  there  in  Hardback  who  did  not  determine, 
in  their  innermost  hearts,  to  strive  as  hard  as  Yankee  wit 
and  maiden  modesty  would  allow  for  one  of  those  tempting 
prizes. 

Nor  were  they  unaided.  Rich  and  respectable  sons-in- 
law  are  scarce  enough  the  world  over,  so  it  was  no  wonder 
that  all  the  parents  of  marriageable  daughters  strove  to 
make  Hardback  pleasant  for  the  young  men. 

Fathers  read  up  on  Nevada,  and  cultivated  the  three  ex- 
miners  ;  mothers  ransacked  cook-books  and  old  trunks  ; 
Ladies'  Companions  were  industriously  searched  for  pleas- 
ing patterns ;  crimping-irons  and  curling-tongs  were  extem- 
porized, and  the  demand  for  ribbons  and  trimmings  became 
so  great  that  the  storekeeper  hurried  to  the  city  for  a  fresh 
supply. 

Then  began  that  season  of  mad  hilarity  and  reckless 
dissipation,  which  seemed  almost  a  dream  to  the  actors 
themselves,  and  to  which  patriotic  Hardhackians  have  since 
referred  to  with  feelings  like  those  of  the  devout  Jew  as  ho 
recalls  the  glorious  deeds  of  his  forefathers,  or  of  the 
modern  Roman  as,  from  the  crumbling  arches  of  the  Coli- 
seum, he  conjures  up  the  mighty  shade  of  the  Csesariaii 
period. 

The  fragrant  bohea  flowed  as  freely  as  champagne  would 
have  done  in  a  less  pious  locality ;  ethereal  sponge-cakes 
and  transparent  currant-jellies  became  too  common  to  excite 
comment ;  the  surrounding  country  was  heavily  drawn 
upon  for  fatted  calves,  chickens  and  turkeys,  and  mince- 
pies  were  so  plenty,  that  observing  children  wondered  if  the 
Governor  bad  not  decree:!  a  whole  year  of  special  Thanks- 
giving. 

Bravely  the  three  great  catches  accepted  every  invitation, 
and,  though  it  was  a  very  unusual  addition  to  his  regular 
duties,  the  Reverend  Abednego  Choker  faithfully  attended 
all  the  evening  festivities,  to  the  end  that  they  might  b<* 
decorously  closed  with  prayer,  as  had  from  time  imme- 
morial been  the  custom  of  Hardback. 


2ti8  TWO  UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDERS. 

And  the  causes  of  all  these  efforts  on  the  part  of  Hard- 
back society  enjoyed  themselves  intensely.  Young  men  of 
respectable  inclinations,  who  have  lived  for  several  years  in 
a  society  composed  principally  of  scoundrels,  and  modified 
only  by  the  occasional  presence  of  an  honest  miner  or  a 
respectable  mule-driver,  would  have  considered  as  Elysium 
a  place  far  less  proper  and  agreeable  than  Hardhack.  In 
fact,  the  trio  was  so  delighted,  that  its  eligibility  soon  be- 
came diminished  in  quantity. 

Faxton,  at  one  of  the  first  parties,  made  an  unconditional 
surrender  to  a  queenly  damsel,  while  Nathan,  having  found 
his  old  schoolday  sweetheart  still  unmarried,  whispered 
something  in  her  ear  (probably  the  secret  of  some  rare  cos- 
metic), which  filled  her  cheeks  with  roses  from  that  time 
forth. 

But  Crewne,  the  handsomest  and  most  brilliant  of  the 
three,  still  remained,  and  over  him  the  fight  was  far  more 
intense  than  in  the  opening  of  the  campaign,  when  weapons 
were  either  rusty  or  untried,  and  the  chances  of  success 
were  seemingly  more  numerous. 

But  to  designate  any  particular  lady  as  surest  of  success 
seemed  impossible.  Even  Nathan  and  Faxton,  when  be- 
sought for  an  opinion  by  the  two  ladies  who  now  claimed 
their  innermost  thoughts,  could  only  say  that  no  one  but 
Crewne  knew,  and  perhaps  even  he  didn't. 

Crewne  was  a  very  odd  boy,  they  said — excellent  com- 
pany, the  best  of  good  fellows,  the  staunchest  of  friends,  and 
the  very  soul  of  honor;  but  there  were  some  things  about 
him  they  never  could  understand.  In  fact,  he  was  some- 
thing like  that  sum  of  all  impossibilities,  a  schoolgirl's 
hero. 

"But,  Harry,"  said  the  prospective  Mrs.  Faxton,  with 
rather  an  angry  pout  for  a  Church-member  in  full  com- 
munion, "  just  see  what  splendid  girls  are  dying  for  him ! 
I'm  sure  there  are  no  nicer  girls  anywhere  than  in  Hard- 
hack,  and  he  needn't  be  so  stuck  up " 

"  My  dear,"  interrupted  Faxton,  "  I  say  it  with  fear  and 


EXTRAORDINARY  INTEREST  IN  CREWNE's  AFFAIRS.         -269 

trembling,  but  perhaps  Grewne  don't  want  to  be  in  love  at 
all." 

An  indignant  flash  of  doubt  went  over  the  lady's  face. 

"  Just  notice  him  at  a  party,"  continued  Faxton.  "  He 
seems  to  distribute  his  attentions  with  exact  equality  among 
all  the  ladies  present,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  discourage  the 
idea  that  he  was  a  marrying  man." 

"Well,"  said  the  lady,  stiU  indignant,  "I  think  you 
might  ask  him  and  settle  the  matter." 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear,"  replied  Faxton.  "  I  have  seen 
others  manifest  an  interest  in  Crewne's  affairs,  and  the ,  re- 
sult was  discouraging.  I'd  rather  not  try  the  experiment." 

A  few  mornings  later  Mrs.  Leekins,  who  took  the  place 
of  a  newspaper  at  Hardhack,  was  seen  hurrying  from  house 
to  house  on  her  own  street,  and  such  housekeepers  as  saw 
her  instantly  discovered  that  errands  must  be  made  to 
houses  directly  in  Mrs.  Leekins's  route. 

Mrs.  Leekins's  story  was  soon  told.  Crewne  had  sud- 
denly gone  to  the  city,  first  purchasing  the  cottage  which 
Deacon  Twinkham  had  built  several  years  before  for  a  son 
who  had  never  come  back  from  sea. 

Crewne  had  hired  old  Mrs.  Bruff  to  put  the  cottage  to 
rights,  and  to  arrange  the  carpets  and  furniture,  which  he 
was  to  forward  immediately.  But  who  was  to  be  mistress 
of  the  cottage  Mrs.  Leekins  was  unable  to  tell,  or  even  to 
guess. 

The  clerks  at  the  store  had  been  thoroughly  pumped ; 
but  while  they  admitted  that  one  young  lady  had  purchased 
an  unusual  quantity  of  inserting,  another  had  ordered  a 
dress  pattern  of  gray  empress  cloth,  which  was  that  year 
the  fashionable  material  and  color  for  traveling  dresses. 

Old  Mrs.  Bruff  had  received  unusual  consideration  and 
unlimited  tea,  but  even  the  most  systematic  question  failed 
to  elicit  from  her  anything  satisfactory. 

At  any  rate,  it  was  certain  that  Crewne  was  absent  from 
Hardhack,  and  it  was  evident  that  lie  had  decided  who  was 
to  be  the  lady  of  the  cottage,  so  the  season  of  festivity  was 


270  THE  MEETING   DEMOKALIZED. 

brought  to  an  abrupt  close,  and  the  digestions  of  Hardback 
were  snatched  from  ruin. 

From  kitchen-windows  were  now  wafted  odors  of  boiled 
corned  beef  and  stewed  apples,  instead  of  the  fragrance  of 
delicate  preserves  and  delicious  turkey. 

Young  ladies,  when  they  met  in  the  street,  greeted  each 
other  with  a  shade  less  of  cordiality  than  usual,  and  fathers 
and  mothers  in  Israel  cast  into  each  other's  eyes  searching 
and  suspicious  glances. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  pious  matrons  of  Hardback 
were  gathering  at  the  pastor's  residence  to  take  part  in  the 
regular  weekly  mothers'  prayer-meeting,  the  mail-coach 
rolled  into  town,  and  Mrs.  Leekins,  who  was  sitting  by  the 
window,  as  she  always  did,  exclaimed : 

".He's  come  back — there  he  is — on  the  seat  with  the 
driver !" 

Every  one  aurried  to  the  window,  and  saw  that  Mrs. 
Leekins  had  spoken  truly,  for  there  sat  Crewne  with  a 
pleasant  smile  on  his  face,  while  on  top  of  the  stage  were 
several  large  trunks  marked  0. 

"Must  have  got  a  handsome  fit-out,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Leekins. 

The  stage  stopped  at  the  door  of  Crewne's  new 
cottage,  and  Crewne  got  out.  The  pastor  entered  the  parlor 
to  open  the  meeting,  and  was  selecting  a  hymn,  when  Mrs. 
Leekins  startled  the  meeting  by  ejaculating  : 

"Lands  alive !" 

The  meeting  was  demoralized ;  the  sisters  hastened  to 
the  window,  and  the  good  pastor,  laying  down  his  hymn- 
book,  followed  in  time  to  see  Crewne  helping  out  a  well- 
dressed  and  apparently  young  and  handsome  lady. 

"Hardback  girls  not  good  'nough  for  him,  it  seems  1" 
snoered  Mrs.  Leekins. 

A  resigned  and  sympathetic  sigh  broke  from  the 
motherly  lips  present,  then  Mrs.  Leekins  cried  : 

"Gracious  sakes  !  married  a  widder  with  children!" 

It  certainly  seemed  that  she  told  the  truth,  for  Crewno 


J^aSL       SJL1:    -^^-^ 


HARDHACK   RESIGNED.  273 

lifted  out  two  children,  the  youngest  of  whom  seemed  not 
more  than  three  years  old. 

The  gazers  abruptly  left  the  window,  and  the  general 
tone  of  the  meeting  was  that  of  melancholy  resignation. 

##•*#### 

"Why  didn't  he  ever  say  he  was  a  married  man  ?"  asked 
the  prospective  Mrs.  Faxton,  of  her  lover,  that  evening. 

"  Partly  because  he  is  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  talk 
of  his  own  affairs,"  replied  Faxton ;  "  but  principally  because 
there  had  been,  as  he  told  me  this  afternoon,  an  unfortu- 
nate quarrel  between  them,  which  drove  him  to  the  mines. 
A  few  days  ago  he  heard  from  her,  for  the  first  time  in 
three  years,  and  they've  patched  up  matters,  and  are  very 
happy." 

"  Well,"  said  the  lady,  with  considerable  decision,  "Hard- 
hack  will  never  forgive  him." 

"  Hardback  did,  however,  for  Crewne  and  his  two  friends 
drew  about  them  a  few  of  their  old  comrades,  who  took  unto 
themselves  wives  from  the  people  about  them,  and  made 
of  Hardhack  one  of  the  pleasantest  villages  in  the  State. 


18 


THE    CAEMI    CHUMS. 

TITHE  Carmi  Chums  was  the  name  they  went  by  all  along 
J[  the  river.  Most  other  roustabouts  had  each  a  name  of 
his  own ;  so  had  the  Carmi  Chums  for  that  matter,  but  the 
men  themselves  were  never  mentioned  individually — always 
collectively. 

No  steamboat  captain  who  wanted  only  a  single  man  ever 
attempted  to  hire  half  of  the  Carmi  Chums  at  a  time — as 
easy  would  it  have  been  to  have  hired  half  of  the  Siamese 
Twins.  No  steamboat  mate  who  knew  them  ever  attempted 
to  "tell  off"  the  Chums  into  different  watches,  and  any 
mate  who,  not  knowing  them,  committed  this  blunder,  and 
adhered  to  it  after  explanation  was  made,  was  sure  to  be 
two  men  short  immediately  after  leaving  the  steamer's  next 
landing. 

There  seemed  no  possible  way  of  separating  them  ;  they 
never  fell  out  with  each  other  in  the  natural  course  of 
events ;  they  never  fought  when  drunk,  as  other  friendly 
roustabouts  sometimes  did,  for  the  Carmi  Chums  never  got 
drunk;  there  never  sprang  up  any  coolness  between  them 
because  of  love  for  the  same  lady,  for  they  did  not  seem  to 
^care  at  all  for  female  society,  unless  they  happened  to  meet 
some  old  lady  whom  one  might  love  as  a  mother  rather 
than  as  a  sweetheart. 

"  Even  professional  busybodies,  from  whose  presence 
roustabouts  are  no  freer  than  Church-members,  were  unable 
.to  provoke  the  Carmi  Chums  even  to  suspicion,  and  those 

274 


275 

of  them,  who  attempted  it  too  persistently  were  likely  to 
have  a  difficulty  with  the  slighter  of  the  Chums. 

This  man,  who  was  called  Black,  because  of  the  color  of 
his  hair,  was  apparently  forty  years  of  age,  and  of  very 
ordinary  appearance,  except  when  an  occasional  furtive, 
frightened  look  came  into  his  face  and  attracted  attention. 

His  companion,  called  Red,  because  his  hair  was  of  the 
hue  of  the  carrots,  and  because  it  was  occasionally  neces- 
sary to  distinguish  him  from  his  friend,  seemed  of  about 
the  same  age  and  degree  of  ordinaries  as  Black,  but  was 
rather  stouter,  more  cheery,  and,  to  use  the  favorite  rousta- 
bout simile,  held  his  head  closer  to  the  current. 

He  seemed,  when  Black  was  absent-minded  (as  he  gen- 
erally was  while  off  duty),  to  be  the  leading  spirit  of  the 
couple,  and  to  be  tenderly  alive  to  all  of  his  partner's 
needs  ;  but  observing  roustabouts  noticed  that  when  freight 
was  being  moved,  or  wood  taken  on  board,  Black  was  always 
where  he  could  keep  an  eye  on  his  chum,  and  where  he 
-could  demand  instant  reparation  from  any  wretch  who  trod 
upon  Bed's  toes,  or  who,  with  a  shoulder-load  of  wood, 
grazed  Red's  head,  or  touched  Red  with  a  box  or  barrel. 

Next  to  neighborly  wonder  as  to  the  existence  of  the 
friendship  between  the  Chums,  roustabouts  with  whom  the 
•couple  sailed  concerned  themselves  most  with  the  cause  of 
the  bond  between  them.  Their  searches  after  first  causes 
were  no  more  successful,  however,  than  those  of  the  natur- 
alists who  are  endeavoring  to  ascertain  who  laid  the  cosmic 


They  gave  out  that  they  came  from  Carmi,  so,  once  or 
twice,  when  captains  with  whom  the  Chums  were  engaged 
determined  to  seek  a  cargo  up  the  Wabash,  upon  which 
river  Carmi  was  located,  inquisitive  roustabouts  became 
light-hearted.  But,  alas,  for  the  vanity  of  human  hopes  ! 
when  the  boat  reached  Carmi  the  Chums  could  not  be 
found,  nor  could  any  inhabitant  of  Carmi  identify  them  by 
ihe  descriptions  which  were  given  by  inquiring  friends. 

At  length  they  became  known,  in  their  collective  capa- 


276  THE   CHUMS  IN  THE   GREW  OF  THE   BENNETT. 

city,  as  one  of  the  institutions  of  the  river.  Captains  knew 
them  as  well  as  they  knew  Natchez  or  Piankishaw  Bend, 
and  showed  them  to  distinguished  passengers  as  regularly 
as  they  showed  General  Zach.  Taylor's  plantation,  or  the 
scene  of  the  Grand  Gulf  "  cave,"  where  a  square  mile  of 
Louisiana  dropped  into  the  river  one  night.  Captains 
rather  cultivated  them,  in  fact,  although  it  was  a  difficult 
bit  of  business,  for  roustabouts  who  wouldn't  say  "thank 
you  "  for  a  glass  of  French  brandy,  or  a  genuine,  old-fash- 
ioned "plantation  cigar,"  seemed  destitute  of  ordinary 
handles  of  which  a  sceamboat  captain  could  take  hold. 

Lady  passengers  took  considerable  notice  of  them,  and 
were  more  successful  than  any  one  else  at  drawing  them 
into  conversation.  The  linguistic  accomplishments  of  the 
Chums  were  not  numerous,  but  it  did  one  good  to  see  Black 
lose  his  scared,  furtive  look  when  a  lady  addressed  him, 
and  to  see  the  affectionate  deference  with  which  he  appealed 
to  Ked,  until  that  worthy  was  drawn  into  the  conversation. 
When  Black  succeeded  in  this  latter-named  operation,  he 
would,  by  insensible  stages,  draw  himself  away,  and  give 
himself  up  to  enthusiastic  admiration  of  his  partner,  or, 
apparently,  of  his  conversational  ability. 

The  Spring  of  1869  found  the  Chums  in  the  crew  of  the 
Bennett,  "  the  peerless  floating  palace  of  the  Mississippi," 
as  she  was  called  by  those  newspapers  whose  reporters  had 
the  freedom  of  the  Bennett's  bar ;  and  the  same  season  saw 
the  Bennett  staggering  down  the  Mississippi  with  so  heavy 
a  load  of  sacked  corn,  that  the  gunwales  amidships  were 
fairly  under  water. 

The  river  was  very  low,  so  the  Bennett  kept  carefully  in 
the  channel ;  but  the  channel  of  the  great  muddy  ditch  which 
drains  half  the  Union  is  as  fickle  as  disappointed  lovers 
declare  women  to  be,  and  it  has  no  more  respect  for  great 
steamer-loads  of  corn  than  Goliath  had  for  David. 

A  little  Ohio  river-boat,  l^ound  upward,  had  reported 
the  sudden  disappearance  of  a  woodyard  a  little  way  above 
Milliken's  Bend,  where  the  channel  hugged  the  shore,  and 


THE   CHUMS  IN  DANGEB.  277 

with  the  woodyard  there  had  disappeared  an  enormous 
sycamore-tree,  which  had  for  years  served  as  a  tying-post 
for  steamers. 

As  live  sycamores  are  about  as  disinclined  to  float  as 
bars  of  lead  are,  the  captain  and  pilot  of  the  Bennett  were 
somewhat  concerned — for  the  sake  of  the  corn — to  know 
the  exact  location  of  the  tree. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  spot  it  became  evident,  even  to 
the  passengers  clustered  forward  on  the  cabin-deck,  that  the 
sycamore  had  remained  quite  near  to  its  old  home,  for  a 
long,  rough  ripple  was  seen  directly  across  the  line  of  the 
channel. 

Then  arose  the  question  as  to  how  much  water  was  on 
top  of  the  tree,  and  whether  any  bar  had  had  time  to  accu- 
mulate. 

The  steamer  was  stopped,  the  engines  were  reversed 
and  worked  by  hand  to  keep  the  Bennett  from  drifting  down- 
stream, a  boat  was  lowered  and  manned,  the  Chums  form- 
ing part  of  her  crew,  and  the  second  officer  went  down  to 
take  soundings ;  while  the  passengers,  to  whom  even  so 
small  a  cause  for  excitement  was  a  godsend,  crowded  the 
rail  and  stared. 

The  boat  shot  rapidly  down  stream,  headed  for  the 
shore-end  of  the  ripple.  She  seemed  almost  into  the  boil- 
ing mud  in  front  of  her  when  the  passengers  on  the  steamer 
heard  the  mate  in  the  boat  shout :  "Back  all !" 

The  motion  of  the  oars  changed  in  an  instant,  but  a  lit- 
tle too  late,  for,  a  heavy  root  of  the  fallen  giant,  just  cov- 
ered by  the  water,  caught  the  little  craft,  and  caused  it  to 
careen  so  violently  that  one  man  was  thrown  into  the  water. 
As  she  righted,  another  man  went  in. 

"Confound  it!"  growled  the  captain,  who  was  leaning 
out  of  the  pilot-house  window.  I  hope  they  can  swim. 
Still,  'tain't  as  bad  as  it  would  be  if  we  had  any  more  cargo 
to  take  aboard." 

"  It's  the  Chums,"  remarked  the  pilot,  who  had  brought 
a  glass  to  bear  upon  the  boat. 


278  THE   JUDGE   RESUMES   HIS   STORY. 

"Thunder!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  striking  a  belL 
"  Below  there  !  Lower  away  another  boat — lively !"  Then, 
turning  to  the  passengers,  he  exclaimed :  "  Nobody  on  the 
river'd  forgive  me  if  I  lost  the  Chums.  'T  would  be  as  bad 
as  Barnum  losing  the  giraffe." 

The  occupants  of  the  first  boat  were  evidently  of  the 
captain's  own  mind,  for  they  were  eagerly  peering  over  her 
side,  and  into  the  water. 

Suddenly  the  pilot  dropped  his  glass,  extemporized  a. 
trumpet  with  both  hands,  and  shouted : 

"  Forrard — forrard !  One  of  'em's  up  1"  Then  he  put 
his  mouth  to  the  speaking-  tube,  and  screamed  to  the  en- 
gineer :  "  Let  her  drop  down  a  little,  Billy !" 

The  sounding  party  headed  toward  a  black  speck,  ap- 
parently a  hundred  yards  below  them,  and  the  great  steamer 
slowly  drifted  down-stream.  The  speck  moved  toward 
shore,  and  the  boat,  rapidly  shortening  distance,  seemed  to 
scrape  the  bank  with  her  port  oars. 

"  Safe  enough  now,  I  guess  !"  exclaimed  Judge  Turner, 
of  one  of  the  Southern  Illinois  circuits. 

The  Judge  had  been  interrupted  in  telling  a  story  when 
the  accident  occurred,  and  was  in  a  hurry  to  resume. 

"  As  I  was  saying,"  said  he,  "  he  hardly  looked  like  a 
professional  horse-thief.  He  wa^  little  and  quiet,  and  had 
always  worked  away  steadily  at  his  trade.  I  believed  him 
when  he  said  'twas  his  first  offense,  and  that  he  did  it  to 
raise  money  to  bury  his  child ;  and  I  was  going  to  give  him 
an  easy  sentence,  and  ask  the  Governor  to  pardon  him. 
The  laws  have  to  be  executsd,  you  know,  but  there's  no  law 
against  mercy  being  practiced  afterward.  Well,  the  sheriff 
was  bringing  him  from  jail  to  hear  the  verdict  and  the  sen- 
tence, when  the  short  man,  with  red  hair,  knocked  the 
sheriff  down,  and  off  galloped  that  precious  couple  for  the 
Wabash.  I  saw  the  entire " 

"  The  deuce  !"  interrupted  the  pilot,  again  dropping  his 
glass. 

The  Judge  glared  angrily ;  the  passengers  saw,  across- 


THE    STORY   INTERRUPTED.  279^ 

the  shortened  distance,  one  of  the  Chums  holding  by  a  root 
to  the  bank,  and  trying  to  support  the  other,  whose  shirt 
hung  in  rags,  and  who  seemed  exhausted. 

"  Whicty  one's  hurt  ?"  asked  the  captain.  "  Give  me  the 
glass." 

But  the  pilot  had  left  the  house  and  taken  the  glass  with 
him. 

The  Judge  continued : 

"  I  saw  the  whole  transaction  through  the  window.  I 
was  so  close  that  I  saw  the  sheriff's  assailant's  very  eyes. 
I'd  know  that  fellow's  face  if  I  saw  it  in  Africa." 

"  Why,  they're  both  hurt !"  exclaimed  the  captain. 
"They've  thrown  a  coat  over  one,  and  they're  crowdin' 

around   the   other.     What   the They're   comin'   back 

without  'em  —  need  whisky  to  bring  'em  to,  I  suppose. 
Why  didn't  I  send  whisky  down  by  the  other  boat? 
There's  an  awful  amount  of  time  being  wasted  here. 
What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Bell?"  shouted  tlie  captain,  as  the 
boat  approached  the  steamer. 

"  Both  dead  !"  replied  the  officer. 

"  Both  ?  Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  exclaimed  the 
captain,  turning  toward  the  passengers,  who  were  crowded3 
forward  just  below  him,  "  I  want  to  know  if  that  isn't  a 
streak  of  the  meanest  kind  of  luck?  Both  the  Chums 
gone  !  Why,  I  won't  be  able  to  hold  up  my  head  in  New 
Orleans.  How  came  it  that  just  those  two  fellows  were 
knocked  out?1' 

"Ked  tumbled  out,  and  Black  jumped  in  after  him,"  re- 
plied the  officer.  "  Ked  must  have  been  caught  in  an  eddy 
and  tangled  in  the  old  tree's  roots — clothes  torn  almost  off 
— head  caved  in.  Black  must  have  burst  a  blood-vessel — 
his  face  looked  like  a  copper  pan  when  he  reached  shore, 
and  he  just  groaned  and  dropped." 

The  captain  was  sorry,  so  sorry  that  he  sent  a  waiter  for 
brandy.  But  the  captain  was  human — business  was  busi- 
ness— the  rain  was  falling,  and  a  big  log  was  across 
boat's  bow";  so  he  shouted  : 


•280 

"Hurry  up  and  bury  'em,  then.  You  ought  to  have  let 
the  second  boat's  crew  gone  on  with  that,  and  you  have 
gone  back  to  your  soundings.  They  was  the  Chums,  to  be 
sure,  but  now  they're  only  dead  roustabouts.  Below  there ! 
Pass  out  a  couple  of  shovels!" 

"Perhaps  some  ladies  would  go  down  with  the  boat, 
captain — and  a  preacher,  too,  if  there's  one  aboard,"  re- 
marked the  mate,  with  an  earnest  but  very  mysterious  ex- 
pression. 

"  Why,  what  in  thunder  does  the  fellow  mean  ?"  solilo- 
quized the  captain,  audibly.  "  Women — and  a  preacher — 
for  dead  roustabouts  ?  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Bell?" 

"  Bed's  a  woman,"  briefly  responded  the  mate. 

The  passengers  all  started — the  captain  brought  his 
hands  together  with  a  tremendous  clap,  and  exclaimed: 

"  Murder  will  out !  But  who'd  have  thought  /was  to  be 
the  man  to  find  out  the  secret  of  the  Carmi  Chums  ?  Guess 
I'll  be  the  biggest  man  on  the  New  Orleans  levee,  after  all. 
Yes,  certainly — of  course  some  ladies'll  go — and  a  preacher, 
too,  if  there's  such  a  man  aboard.  Hold  up,  though — we'll 
all  go.  Take  your  soundings,  quick,  and  we'll  drop  the 
steamer  just  below  the  point,  and  tie  up.  I  wonder  if 
there's  a  preacher  aboard  ?" 

No  one  responded  for  the  moment ;  then  the  Judge  spoke. 

"  Before  I  went  into  the  law  I  was  the  regularly  settled 
pastor  of  a  Presbyterian  Church,"  said  he.  "  I'm  decidedly 
rusty  now,  but  a  little  time  will  enable  me  to  prepare  my- 
self properly.  Excuse  me,  ladies  and  gentlemen." 

The  sounding-boat  pulled  away,  and  the  Judge  retired 
to  his  stateroom.  The  ladies,  with  very  pale  faces,  gath- 
ered in  a  group  and  whispered  earnestly  with  each  other ; 
then  ensued  visits  to  each  other's  staterooms,  and  the  final 
regathering  of  the  ladies  with  two  or  three  bundles.  The 
soundings  were  taken,  and,  as  the  steamer  dropped  down- 
stream, men  were  seen  cutting  a  path  down  the  rather  steep 
clay  bank  The  captain  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth  and 
shouted : 


THE  JUDGE  FINISHES  HIS  STORY.  281 

Dig  only  one  grave — make  it  wide  enough  for  two." 

A.nd  all  the  passengers  nodded  assent  and  satisfaction. 

Time  had  been  short  since  the  news  reached  the  steamer, 
but  the  Bennett's  carpenter,  who  was  himself  a  married  man, 
had  made  a  plain  coffin  by  the  time  the  boat  tied  up,  and 
another  by  the  time  the  grave  was  dug.  The  first  one  was 
put  upon  a  long  handbarrow,  over  which  the  captain  had 
previously  spread  a  tablecloth,  and,  followed  by  the  ladies, 
was  deposited  by  the  side  of  the  body  of  Bed.  Half  an  hour 
later,  the  men  placed  Black  in  the  other  coffin,  removed  both 
to  the  side  of  the  grave,  and  signalled  the  boat. 

"Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  captain. 

The  Judge  appeared  with  a  very  solemn  face,  his  coat 
buttoned  tight  to  his  throat,  and  the  party  started.  Colonel 
May,  of  Missouri,  who  read  Voltaire  and  didn't  believe  in 
anything,  maliciously  took  the  Judge's  arm,  and  remarked : 

"You  didn't  finish  your  story,  Judge." 

The  Judge  frowned  reprovingly. 

"  But,  really,"  persisted  the  colonel,  "  I  don't  want  curi- 
osity to  divert  my  mind  from  the  solemn  services  about  to 
take  place.  Do  tell  me  if  they  ever  caught  the  rascals." 

"They  never  did,"  replied  the  Judge.  "The  sheriff 
hunted  and  advertised,  but  he  could  never  hear  a  word  of 
either  of  them.  But  I'd  know  either  one  of  them  at  sight. 
Sh — h here  we  are  at  the  grave." 

The  passengers,  officers,  and  crew  gathered  about  the 
grave.  The  Judge  removed  his  hat,  and,  as  the  captain  un- 
covered the  faces  of  the  dead,  commenced  : 

"  '  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life' — Why,  there's  the 
horse-thief  now,  colonel !  I  beg  your  pardon,  ladies  and 
gentlemen.  *  He  that  believeth  in '  " 

Just  then  the  Judge's  eye  fell  upon  the  dead  woman's 
face,  and  he  screamed  : 

"  And  there's  the  sheriffs  assailant !" 


LITTLE    GUZZY. 

T^OWEKTON  was  a  very  quiet  place.  It  Lad  no  factories, 
fj  mills,  or  mines,  or  other  special  inducements  to  offer 
people  looking  for  new  localities ;  and  as  it  was  not  on  a  rail- 
road line,  nor  even  on  an  important  post-road,  it  gained  but 
few  new  inhabitants. 

Even  of  travelers  Bowerton  saw  very  few.  An  occasional 
enterprising  peddler  or  venturesome  thief  found  his  way  to 
the  town,  and  took  away  such  cash  as  came  in  their  way 
while  pursuing  their  respective  callings  ;  but  peddlers  were 
not  considered  exactly  trustworthy  as  news-bearers,  while 
house-breakers,  when  detained  long  enough  to  be  questioned, 
were  not  in  that  communicative  frame  of  mind  which  is 
essential  to  one  who  would  interest  the  general  public. 

When,  therefore,  the  mail-coach  one  day  brought  to  Bow- 
erton an  old  lady  and  a  young  one,  who  appeared  to  be 
mother  and  daughter,  excitement  ran  high. 

The  proprietor  of  the  Bowerton  House,  who  was  his  own 
clerk,  hostler,  and  table-waiter,  was  for  a  day  or  two  the 
most  popular  man  in  town ;  even  the  three  pastors  of  the 
trio  of  churches  of  Bowerton  did  not  consider  it  beneath 
their  dignity  to  join  the  little  groups  which  were  continually 
to  be  seen  about  the  person  of  the  landlord,  and  listening  to 
the  meagre  intelligence  he  was  able  to  give. 

The  old  lady  was  quite  feeble,  he  said,  and  the  daughter 
was  very  affectionate  and  very  handsome.  He  didn't  know 
where  they  were  going,  but  they  registered  themselves  from 
Boston.  Name  was  "Wyett — young  lady's  name  was  Helen. 

282 


PAST  FINDING  OUT.  283 

He  hoped  they  wouldn't  leave  for  a  long  time — travelers 
weren't  any  too  plenty  at  Bowerton,  and  landlords  found  it 
hard  work  to  scratch  along.  Talked  about  locating  at  Bow- 
erton if  they  could  find  a  suitable  cottage.  Wished  'em  well, 
but  hoped  they'd  take  their  time,  and  not  be  in  a  hurry  to 
leave  the  Bowerton  House,  where — if  he  did  say  it  as  shouldn't 
— they  found  good  rooms  and  good  board  at  the  lowest  liv- 
ing price. 

The  Wyetts  finally  found  a  suitable  cottage,  and  soon 
afterward  they  began  to  receive  heavy  packages  and  boxes 
from  the  nearest  railway  station. 

Then  it  was  that  the  responsible  gossips  of  Bowerton 
were  worked  nearly  to  death,  but  each  one  was  sustained  by 
a  fine  professional  pride  which  enabled  them  to  pass  credit- 
ably through  the  most  exciting  period. 

For  years  they  had  skillfully  pried  into  each  other's  pri- 
vate affairs,  but  then  they  had  some  starting-place,  some  clue ; 
now,  alas !  there  was  not  in  all  Bowerton  a  single  person 
who  had  emigrated  from  Boston,  where  the  Wyetts  had  lived. 
Worse  still,  there  was  not  a  single  Bowertonian  who  had  a 
Boston  correspondent. 

To  be  sure,  one  of  the  Bowerton  pastors  had  occasional 
letters  from  a  missionary  board,  whose  headquarters  were 
at  the  Hub,  but  not  even  the  most  touching  appeals  from 
members  of  his  flock  could  induce  him  to  write  the  board  con- 
cerning the  newcomers. 

But  Bowerton  was  not  to  be  balked  in  its  striving  after 
accurate  intelligence. 

From  Squire  Brown,  who  leased  Mrs.  Wyett  a  cottage,  it 
was  learned  that  Mrs.  Wyett  had  made  payment  by  check 
on  an  excellent  Boston  bank.  The  poor  but  respectable 
female  who  washed  the  floors  of  the  cottage  informed  the 
public  that  the  whole  first  floor  was  to  be  carpeted  with 
Brussels. 

The  postmaster's  clerk  ascertained  and  stated  that  Mrs. 
Wyett  received  two  religious  papers  per  week,  whoreas  no 
one  else  in  Bowerton  took  more  than  one. 


281  THE  PATENT  OF  AKISTOCRACY. 

The  grocer  said  that  Mrs.  Wye tt  was,  by  jingo,  the  sort  of 
person  he  liked  to  trade  with — wouldn't  have  anything  that 
wasn't  the  very  best. 

The  man  who  helped  to  do  the  unpacking  was  willing  to 
take  oath  that  among  the  books  were  a  full  set  of  Barnes, 
Notes,  and  two  sets  of  commentaries,  while  Mrs.  Battle,  who 
lived  in  the  house  next  to  the  cottage,  and  who  was  suddenly, 
on  hearing  the  crashing  of  crockery  nexfc  door,  moved  to 
neighborly  kindness  to  the  extent  of  carrying  in  a  nice  hot 
pie  to  the  newcomers,  declared  that,  as  she  hoped  to  be  saved, 
there  wasn't  a  bit  of  crockery  in  that  house  which  wasn't 
pure  china. 

Bowerton  asked  no  more.  Brussels  carpets,  religious 
tendencies,  a  bank  account,  the  ability  to  live  on  the  best 
that  the  market  afforded,  and  to  eat  it  from  china,  and  china 
only — why,  either  one  of  these  qualifications  was  a  voucher 
of  respectability,  and  any  two  of  them  constituted  a  patent 
of  aristocracy  of  the  Bowerton  standard. 

Bowerton  opened  its  doors,  and  heartily  welcomed  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Wyett. 

It  is  grievous  to  relate,  but  the  coming  of  the  estimable 
people  was  the  cause  of  considerable  trouble  in  Bowerton. 

Bowerton,  like  all  other  places,  contained  lovers,  and 
some  of  the  young  men  were  not  so  blinded  by  the  charms  of 
their  own  particular  lady  friends  as  to  be  oblivious  to  the 
beauty  of  Miss  Wyett.- 

She  was  extremely  modest  and  retiring,  but  she  was  also 
unusually  handsome  and  graceful,  and  she  had  an  expres- 
sion which  the  young  men  of  Bowerton  could  not  understand, 
but  which  they  greatly  admired. 

It  was  useless  for  plain  girls  to  say  that  they  couldn't 
see  anything  remarkable  about  Miss  Wyett ;  it  was  equally 
unavailing  for  good-looking  girls  to  caution  -their  gallants 
against  too  much  of  friendly  regard  even  for  a  person  of 
whose  antecedents  they  really  knew  scarcely  anything. 

Even  casting  chilling  looks  at  Miss  Wyett  when  they  met 
her  failed  to  make  that  unoffending  young  lady  any  less 


"WHO   CAN  THE  LUCKY  MAN  BE?'*  285 

attractive  to  the  young  men  of  Bowerton,  and  critical  analy- 
sis of  Miss  Wyett's  style  of  dressing  only  provoked  manly 
comparisons,  which  were  as  exasperating  as  they  were  unar- 
tisfcic. 

Finally  Jack  Whiffer,  who  was  of  a  first  family,  and  was 
a  store-clerk  besides,  proposed  to  Miss  Wyett  and  was  de- 
clined ;  then  the  young  ladies  of  Bowerton  thought  that  per- 
haps Helen  Wyett  had  some  sense  after  all. 

Then  young  Baggs,  son  of  a  deceased  Congressman, wished 
to  make  Miss  Wyett  mistress  of  the  Baggs  mansion  and 
sharer  of  the  Baggs  money,  but  his  offer  was  rejected. 

Upon  learning  this  fact,  the  maidens  of  Bowerton  pro- 
nounced Helen  a  noble-spirited  girl  to  refuse  to  take  Baggs 
away  from  the  dear,  abused  woman  who  had  been  engaged 
to  him  for  a  long  time. 

Several  other  young  men  had  been  seen  approaching  the 
Wyett  cottage  in  the  full  glory  of  broadcloth  and  hair-oil, 
and  were  noticeably  depressed  in  spirits  for  days  afterward, 
and  the  native  ladies  of  marriageable  age  were  correspond- 
ingly elated  when  they  heard  of  it. 

When  at  last  the  one  unmarried  minister  of  Bowerton, 
who  had  been  the  desire  of  many  hearts,  manfully  admitted 
that  he  had  proposed  and  been  rejected,  and  that  Miss  Wyett 
had  informed  him  that  she  was  already  engaged,  all  the 
Bowerton  girls  declared  that  Helen  Wyett  was  a  darling  old 
thing,  and  that  it  was  perfectly  shameful  that  she  couldn't 
be  let  alone. 

After  thus  proving  that  their  own  hearts  were  in  the 
right  place,  all  the  Bowerton  girls  asked  each  other  who  the 
lucky  man  could  be. 

Of  course  he  couldn't  be  a  Bowerton  man,  for  Miss  Wyett 
was  seldom  seen  in  company  with  any  gentleman.  He  must 
be  a  Boston  man — he  was  probably  very  literary — Boston 
men  always  were. 

Besides,  if  he  was  at  all  fit  for  her,  he  must  certainly  be 
very  handsome. 

Suddenly  Miss  Wyett  became  the  rage  among  the  Bow- 


286  GUZZY'S  VENGEANCE. 

erton  girls.  Blushingly  and  gushingly  they  told  her  of  their 
own  loves,  and  they  showed  her  their  lovers,  or  pictures  of 
those  gentlemen. 

;Miss  Wyett  listened,  smiled  and  sympathized,  but  when 
they  sat  silently  expectant  of  similar  confidences,  they  were 
disappointed,  and  when  they  endeavored  to  learn  even  the 
slightest  particular  of  Helen  Wyett's  love,  she  changed  the 
subject  of  conversation  so  quickly  and  decidedly  that  they 
had  not  the  courage  to  renew  the  attempt. 

But  while  most  Bowertonians  despaired  of  learning  much 
more  about  the  Wyetts,  and  especially  about  Helen's  lover, 
there  was  one  who  had  resolved  not  only  to  know  the  favored 
man,  but  to  do  him  some  frightful  injury,  and  that  was  little 
Guzzy. 

'Though  Guzzy's  frame  was  small,  his  soul  was  immense, 
and  Helen's  failure  to  comprehend  Guzzy's  greatness  when 
he  laid  it  all  at  her  feet  had  made  Guzzy  extremely  bilious 
and  gloomy. 

Many  a  night,  when  Guzzy's  soul  and  body  should  have 
been  taking  their  rest,  they  roamed  in  company  up  and  down 
the  quiet  street  on  which  the  Wyetts'  cottage  was  located, 
and  Guzzy's  eyes,  instead  of  being  fixed  on  sweet  pictures  in 
dreamland,  gazed  vigilantly  in  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Wyett's 
gate. 

He  did  not  meditate  inflicting  personal  violence  on  the 
hated  wretch  who  had  snatched  away  Helen  from  his  hopes 
— no,  personal  violence  could  produce  suffering  but  feeble 
compared  with  that  under  which  the  victim  would  writhe 
as  Guzzy  poured  forth  the  torrent  of  scornful  invective  which 
he  had  compiled  from  the  memories  of  his  bilious  brain  and 
the  pages  of  his  "Webster  Unabridged." 

At  length  there  came  a  time  when  most  men  would  have 
despaired. 

Love  is  warm,  but  what  warmth  is  proof  against  the 
chilling  blasts  and  pelting  rains  of  the  equinoctial  storm  ? 

But  then  it  was  that  the  fervor  of  little  Guzzy's  soul 
showed  itself ;  for,  wrapped  in  the  folds  of  a  waterproof  over- 


GUZZY'S  REWARD.  287 

coat,  he  paced  nis  accustomed  beat  with  the  calmness  of  a 
faithful  policeman. 

And  he  had  his  reward. 

As  one  night  he  stood  unseen  against  the  black  back- 
ground of  a  high  wall,  opposite  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Wyett, 
he  heard  the  gate — her  gate — creak  on  its  hinges. 

It  could  be  no  ordinary  visitor,  for  it  was  after  nine  o'clock 
— it  must  be  he. 

Ha !  the  lights  were  out !  He  would  be  disappointed, 
the  villain !  Now  was  the  time,  while  his  heart  would  be 
bleeding  with  sorrow,  to  wither  him  with  reproaches.  To  be 
sure,  he  seemed  a  large  man,  while  Guzzy  was  very  small, 
but  Guzzy  believed  his  own  thin  legs  to  be  faithful  in  an 
emergency. 

The  unknown  man  knocked  softly  at  the  front-door,  then 
he  seemed  to  tap  at  several  of  the  windows. 

Suddenly  he  raised  one  of  the  windows,  and  Guzzy,  who 
had  not  until  then  suspected  that  he  had  been  watching  a 
house-breaker,  sped  away  like  the  wind  and  alarmed  the  soli- 
tary constable  of  Bowerton. 

That  functionary  requested  Guzzy  to  notify  Squire  Jones, 
justice  of  the  peace,  that  there  was  business  ahead,  and  then 
hastened  away  himself. 

Guzzy  labored  industriously  for  some  moments,  for  Squire 
Jones  was  very  old,  and  very  cautious,  and  very  stupid  ;  but 
he  was  at  last  fully  aroused,  and  then  Guzzy  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  reflect  on  the  greatness  which  would  be  his  when 
Bowerton  knew  of  his  meritorious  action. 

And  Helen  Wyett — what  would  be  her  shame  and  con- 
trition when  she  learned  that  the  man  whose  love  she  had 
rejected  had  become  the  preserver  of  her  peace  of  mind  and 
her  portable  personal  property  ? 

He  could  not  exult  over  her,  for  that  would  be  unchival- 
rous  ;  but  would  not  her  own  conscience  reproach  her  bit- 
terly ? 

Perhaps  she  would  burst  into  tears  in  the  court-room, 
and  thank  him  effusively  and  publicly  !  Guzzy's  soul  swelled 


288  THE  ESCATED  CONVICT. 

at  the  thought,  and  he  rapidly  composed  a  reply  appropri- 
ate to  such  an  occasion.  Suddenly  Guzzy  heard  footsteps 
approaching,  and  voices  in  earnest  altercation. 

Guzzy  hastened  into  the  squire's  office,  and  struck  an  at- 
titude befitting  the  importance  of  a  principal  witness. 

An  instant  later  the  constable  entered,  followed  by  two 
smart-looking  men,  who  had  between  them  a  third  man, 
securely  handcuffed. 

The  prisoner  was  a  very  handsome,  intelligent-looking 
young  man,  except  for  a  pair  of  restless,  over-bright  eyes. 

"  There's  a  difference  of  opinion  'bout  who  the  prisoner 
belongs  to,"  said  the  constable,  addressing  the  squire ;  and 
we  agreed  to  leave  the  matter  to  you.  When  I  reached  the 
house,  these  gentlemen  already  had  him  in  hand,  and  they 
claim  he's  an  escaped  convict,  and  that  they've  tracked  him 
from  the  prison  right  straight  to  Bowerton." 

The  prisoner  gave  the  officers  a  very  wicked  look,  while 
these  officials  produced  their  warrants  and  handed  them  to 
the  justice  for  inspection. 

Guzzy  seemed  to  himself  to  grow  big  with  accumulating 
importance. 

"  The  officers  seem  to  be  duly  authorized,"  said  the  squire, 
after  a  long  and  minute  examination  of  their  papers  ;  "  but 
they  should  identify  the  prisoner  as  the  escaped  convict  for 
whom  they  are  searching." 

"  Here's  a  description,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  "  in  an 
advertisement :  '  Escaped  from  the  Penitentiary,  on  the  — th 
instant,  William  Beigh,  alias  Bay  Billy,  alias  Handsome ; 
age,  twenty-eight;  height,  five  feet  ten;  complexion  dark, 
hair  black,  eyes  dark  brown,  mole  oh  left  cheek ;  general  ap- 
pearance ^andsome,  manly,  and  intelligent.  A  skillful  and 
dangerous  burglar.  Sentenced  in  1866  to  five  years'  impris- 
onment— two  years  yet  to  serve.'  That,"  continued  the 
officer,  "  describes  him  to  a  dot ;  and,  if  there's  any  further 
doubt,  look  here  1" 

As  he  spoke,  he  unclasped  a  cloak  which  the  prisoner 
wore,  and  disclosed  the  striped  uniform  of  the  prison. 


GOOD  ADVICE  TO  BAY  BILLY.  289 

"  There  seems  no  reasonable  doubt  in  inis  case,  and  the 
prisoner  will  have  to  go  back  to  prison/1  said  the  justice. 
"  But  I  must  detain  him  until  I  ascertain  whether  he  has 
stolen  anything  from  Mrs.  "Wyett's  residence.  In  case  he 
has  done  so,  we  can  prosecute  at  the  expiration  of  his 
term." 

The  prisoner  seemed  almost  convulsed  with  rage,  thougt 
of  a  sort  which  one  of  the  officers  whispered  to  the  other  he 
did  not  exactly  understand. 

Guzzy  eyed  him  resentfully,  and  glared  at  the  officer? 
with  considerable  disfavor. 

Guzzy  was  a  law-abiding  man,  but  to  have  an  expected 
triumph  belittled  and  postponed  because  of  foreign  interfer- 
ence was  enough  to  blind  almost  any  man's  judicial  eyesight- 
"  Well,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  "  put  him  in  the  lock-up' 
and  investigate  in  the  morning  ;  we  won't  want  to  start  until 
then,  after  the  tramp  he's  given  us.  Oh,  Bay  Billy,  you're 
a  smart  one — no  mistake  about  that.  "Why  in  thunder  don't 
you  use  your  smartness  in  the  right  way  ? — there's  more 
money  in  business  than  in  cracking  cribs." 

"  Besides  the  moral  advantage,"  added  the  squire,  who 
was  deacon  as  well,  and  who,  now  that  he  had  concluded  his 
official  duties,  waa  not  adverse  to  laying  down  the  higher 
law. 

"  Just  so,"  exclaimed  the  officer  ;  "  and  for  his  family's 
sake,  too.  Why,  would  you  believe  it,  judge  ?  they  say  Billy 
has  one  of  the  finest  wives  in  the  commonwealth — handsome, 
well-educated,  religious,  rich,  and  of  good  family.  Of  course 
she  didn't  know  what  his  profession  was  when  she  married 
him." 

Again  the  prisoner  seemed  convulsed  with  that  strange 
rage  which  the  officer  did  not  understand.  But  the  officers 
were  tired,  and  they  were  too  familiar  with  the  disapproba- 
tion of  prisoners  to  be  seriously  affected  by  it ;  so,  after  an 
appointment  by  the  squire,  and  a  final  glare  of  indignation 
from  little  Guzzy,  they  started,  under  the  constable's  guid- 
ance, to  the  lock-up. 

18 


293 


DELIVERANCE    NEAll. 


Suddenly  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and  there  appeared,, 
with  uncovered  head,  streaming  hair,  weeping  yet  eager 
eyes,  and  mud-splashed  garments,  Helen  Wyett. 


*'  WE  MAY  AS   WELL  FINISH  THIS   CASE  TO-NIGHT,    IF   MISS   WYETT  IS  PREPARED 
TO  TESTIFY,"  SAID  THE  JUDGE. 

Every  one  started,  the  officers  stared,  the  squire  looked 
a  degree  or  two  less  stupid,  and  hastened  to  button  his- 
dressing-gown ;  the  restless  eyes  of  the  convict  fell  on_ 


"ONEQUALLY  YOKED  WITH  AN  ONBELIEVEB/'      291 

Helen's  beautiful  face,  and  were  restless  no  longer  ;  while- 
little  Guzzy  assumed  a  dignified  pose,  which  did  not  seem 
at  all  consistent  with  his  confused  and  shamefaced  counte- 
nance. 

"  We  may  as  well  finish  this  case  to-night,  if  Miss  Wyett 
is  prepared  to  testify,"  said  the  squire,  at  length.  "Have 
you  lost  anything,  Miss  Wyett?" 

"  No,"  said  Helen  ;  "  but  I  have  found  my  dearest  treas- 
ure— my  own  husband  !" 

And  putting  her  arms  around  the  convict's  neck,  she 
kissed  him,  and  then,  dropping  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,, 
she  sobbed  violently. 

The  squire  was  startled  into  complete  wakefulness,  and 
as  the  moral  aspect  of  the  scene  presented  itself  to  him,  he 
groaned  : 

"  Onequally  yoked  with  an  onbeliever." 
•'  The  officers  looked  as  if  they  were  depraved  yet  remorse- 
ful convicts  themselves,  while  little  Guzzy's  diminutive  di- 
mensions seemed  to  contract  perceptibly. 

At  length  the  convict  quieted  his  wife,  and  persuaded 
her  to  return  to  her  home,  with  a  promise  from  the  officers 
that  she  should  see  him  in  the  morning. 

Then  the  officers  escorted  the  prisoner  to  the  jail,  and 
Guzzy  sneaked  quietly  out,  while  the  squire  retired  to  his 
slumbers,  with  the  firm  conviction  that  if  Solomon  had  been 
a  justice  of  the  peace  at  Bowerfcon,  his  denial  of  the  newness 
of  anything  under  the  sun  would  never  have  been  made. 

Now,  the  jail  at  Bowerton,  like  everything  else  in  the 
town,  was  decidedly  antiquated,  and  consisted  simply  of  a 
thickly-walled  room  in  a  building  which  contained  several 
offices  and  living  apartments. 

It  was  as  extensive  a  jail  as  Bowerton  needed,  and  was 
fully  strong  enough  to  hold  the  few  drunken  and  quarrel- 
some people  who  were  occasionally  lodged  in  it. 

But  Beigh,  alias  Bay  Billy,  alias  Handsome,  was  no  ordi- 
nary and  vulgar  jail-bird,  the  officers  told  him,  and,  that  he 
and  they  might  sleep  securely,  they  considered  it  advisable 
to  carefully  iron  his  hands. 


292  THE  BOOKKEEPER'S  UNACCUSTOMED  LABOR. 

A  couple  of  hours  rolled  away,  and  left  Beigh  still  sitting 
moody  and  silent  on  the  single  bedstead  in  the  Bower  ton 
jail. 

Suddenly  the  train  of  his  thoughts  was  interrupted  by 
a  low  "  stt — stt "  from  the  one  little,  high,  grated  window  of 
the  jail." 

The  prisoner  looked  up  quickly,  and  saw  the  shadow  of 
a  man's  head  outside  the  grating. 

"  Hello  !"  whispered  Beigh,  hurrying  under  the  window. 

"  Are  you  alone  ?"  inquired  the  shadow. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  prisoner. 

"All  right,  then,"  whispered  the  voice.  "  There  are  se- 
crets which  no  vulgar  ears  should  hear.  My  name  is  Guzzy. 
I  have  been  in  love  with  your  wife.  I  hadn't  any  idea  she 
was  married ;  but  I've  brought  you  my  apology." 

"  I'll  forgive  you,"  whispered  the  criminal ;  but " 

"  'Tain't  that  kind  of  apology,"  whispered  Guzzy.  "  It's 
a  steel  one — a  tool — one  of  those  things  that  gunsmiths 
shorten  gun-barrels  with.  If  they  can  saw  a  rifle-barrel  in 
two  in  five  minutes,  you  ought  to  get  out  of  here  inside  of 
an  hour." 

"  Not  quite,"  whispered  Beigh,  "  My  hands  and  feet  are 
ironed." 

"  Then  I'll  do  the  job  myself,"  whispered  Guzzy,  as  he 
applied  the  tool  to  one  of  the  bars ;  for  it  will  be  daylight 
within  two  hours." 

The  unaccustomed  labor — for  Guzzy  was  a  bookkeeper — 
made  his  arms  ache  severely,  but  still  he  sawed  away. 

He  wondered  what  his  employer  would  say  should  he  be 
found  out,  but  still  he  sawed. 

Visions  of  the  uplifted  hands  and  horror-struck  counte- 
nances of  his  brother  Church-members  came  before  his  eyes, 
and  the  effect  of  his  example  upon  his  Sunday-school  class, 
should  he  be  discovered,  tormented  his  soul ;  but  neither  of 
these  influences  affected  his  saw. 

Bar  after  bar  disappeared,  and  when  Guzzy  finally  stop- 
ped to  rest,  Beigh  saw  a  small  square  of  black  sky,  unob- 
structed by  any  bars  whatever. 


"  EUN,  GOD   BLESS   YOU,  BUN  !  " 


293 


"  Now,"  whispered  Guzzy,  "  I'll  drop  in  a  small  box  you 
can  stand  on,  so  you  can  put  your  hands  out  and  let  me  file 
off  your  irons.  I  brought  a  file  or  two,  thinking  they  might 
come  handy." 

Five  minutes  later  the  convict,  his  hands  unbound, 
crawled  through  the  window,  and  was  helped  to  the  ground 
by  Guzzy. 


Seizing  the  file  from  the  little  bookkeeper,  Beigh  com- 
menced freeing  his  feet.  Suddenly  he  stopped  and  whis- 
pered : 

"  You'd  better  go  now.  I  can  take  care  of  myself,  but  if 
those  cursed  officers  should  take  a  notion  to  look  around,  it 
would  go  hard  with  you.  Run,  God  bless  you,  run !" 

But  little  Guzzy  straightened  himself  and  folded  his 
arms. 


GETTING  OUT  OF  HEAKING. 

The  convict  rasped  away  rapidly,  and  finally  dropped  the 
file  and  the  fragments  of  the  last  fetter.  Then  he  seized 
little  Guzzy's  hand. 

"  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  criminal  though  I  am,  I  am  man 
•enough  to  appreciate  your  manliness  and  honor.  I  think  I 
am  smart  enough  to  keep  myself  free,  now  I  am  out  of  jaiL 
But,  if  ever  you  want  a  friend,  tell  Helen,  she  will  know 
where  I  am,  and  I  will  serve  you,  no  matter  what  the  risk 
and  pain." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Guzzy  ;  "  but  the  only  favor  I'll  ever 
ask  of  you  might  as  well  be  named  now,  and  you  ought  to 
be  able  to  do  it  without  risk  or  pain  either.  It's  only  this  : 
be  an  honest  man,  for  Helen's  sake." 

Beigh  dropped  his  head. 

"There  are  men  who  would  die  daily  for  the  sake  of 
making  her  happy,  but  you've  put  it  out  of  their  power,  see- 
ing you've  married  her,"  continued  Guzzy.  "  I'm  nothing  to 
her,  and  can't  be,  but  for  her  sake  to-night  I've  broken  open 
the  gunsmith's  shop,  broken  a  jail,  and  " — here  he  stooped, 
and  picked  up  a  bundle — "  robbed  my  own  employer's  store 
of  a  suit  of  clothes  for  you,  so  you  mayn't  be  caught  again 
in  those  prison  stripes.  If  I've  made  myself  a  criminal  for 
her  sake :  can't  her  husband  be  an  honest  man  for  the  same 
reason  ?" 

The  convict  wrung  the  hand  of  his  preserver.  He  seemed 
io  be  trying  to  speak,  but  to  have  some  great  obstruction  in 
his  throat. 

Suddenly  a  bright  light  shone  on  the  two  men,  and  a 
voice  was  heard  exclaiming,  in  low  but  very  ferocious 
tones : 

"  Do  it,  you  scoundrel,  or  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  your 
head !" 

Both  men  looked  up  to  the  window  of  the  cell,  and  saw  a 
bull's-eye  lantern,  the  muzzle  of  a  pistol,  and  the  face  of  the 
Bowerton  constable. 

The  constable's  right  eye,  the  sights  of  his  pistol  and 
the  breast  of  the  convict  were  on  the  same  visual  line. 


THE   PROMISE.  295 

Without  altering  his  position  or  that  of  his  weapon,  the 
•constable  whispered  : 

"  I've  had  you  covered  for  the  last  ten  minutes.  I  only 
held  in  to  find  out  who  was  helping  you  ;  but  I  heard  too 
much  for  my  credit  as  a  faithful  officer.  Now,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?" 

"  Turn  over  a  new  leaf,"  said  the  convict,  bursting  into 
tears. 

"  Then  get  out,"  whispered  the  officer,  "  and  be  lively, 
•too — it's  almost  daybreak." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,"  said  little  Guzzy,  when  the 
constable  hurriedly  whispered : 

"Wait  until  /get  »ut  of  hearing." 

•x-  ****** 

The  excitement  which  possessed  Bowerton  the  next 
morning,  when  the  events  of  the  previous  night  were  made 
public,  was  beyond  the  descriptive  powers  of  the  best  lin- 
guists in  the  village. 

Helen  Wyett  a  burglar's  wife  ! 

At  first  the  Bowertonians  scarcely  knew  whether  it  would 
be  proper  to  recognize  her  at  all,  and  before  they  were  able 
to  arrive  at  a  conclusion  the  intelligence  of  the  convict's 
•escape,  the  breaking  open  of  the  gunsmith's  shop,  the  find- 
ing of  the  front  door  of  Cashing' s  store  ajar,  and  the  dis- 
covery by  Cashing  that  at  least  one  suit  of  valuable  clothing 
had  been  taken,  came  upon  the  astonished  villagers  and  ren- 
dered them  incapable  of  reason,  and  of  every  other  mental 
attribute  except  wonder. 

That  the  prisoner  had  an  accomplice  seemed  certain,  and 
some  suspicious  souls  suggested  that  the  prisoner's  wife 
might  have  been  the  person ;  but  as  one  of  the  officers 
declared  he  had  watched  her  house  all  night  for  fear  of  some 
such  attempt,  that  theory  was  abandoned. 

Under  the  guidance  of  the  constable,  who  zealously 
assisted  them  in  every  possible  manner,  the  officers  searched 
every  house  in  Bowerton  that  might  seem  likely  to  afford  a 
hiding-place,  and  then  departed  on  what  they  considered  the 
prisoner's  most  likely  route. 


296  THE  SQUIRE'S  INFLUENCE. 

For  some  days  Helen  Wyett  gave  the  Bowertonians  no 
occasion  to  modify  their  conduct  toward  her,  for  she  kept 
herself  constantly  out  of  sight. 

When,  however,  she  did  appear  in  the  street  again,  she 
met  only  the  kindest  looks  and  salutations,  for  the  venerable 
Squire  Jones  had  talked  incessantly  in  praise  of  her  courage 
and  affection,  and  the  Squire's  fellow-townsmen  knew  that 
when  their  principal  magistrate  was  affected  to  tenderness 
and  mercy,  it  was  from  causes  which  would  have  simply 
overwhelmed  any  ordinary  mortal. 

It  was  months  before  Bowerton  gossip  descended  again 
to  its  normal  level ;  for  a  few  weeks  after  the  escape  of 
Bsigh,  little  Guzzy,  who  had  never  been  supposed  to  have 
unusual  credit,  and  whose  family  certainly  hadn't  any  money, 
left  his  employer  and  started  an  opposition  store. 

Next  to  small  scandal,  finance  was  the  favorite  burden  of 
conversation  at  Bowerton,  so  the  source  of  Guzzy's  sudden 
prosperity  was  so  industriously  sought  and  surmised  that 
the  gossips  were  soon  at  needles'  points  about  it. 

Then  it  was  suddenly  noised  abroad  that  Mrs.  Baggs, 
Sr.,  who  knew  everybody,  had  given  Guzzy  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction to  the  Governor  of  the  State. 

Bowerton  was  simply  confounded.  What  could  he  want  ? 
The  Governor  had  very  few  appointments  at  his  disposal, 
and  none  of  them  were  fit  for  Guzzy,  except  those  for  which 
Guzzy  was  not  fit. 

Even  the  local  politicians  became  excited,  and  both  sides 
consulted  Guzzy. 

Finally,  when  Guzzy  started  for  the  State  capital,  and 
Helen  Wyett,  as  people  still  called  her,  accompanied  him, 
the  people  of  Bowerton  put  on  countenances  of  hopeless 
resignation,  and  of  a  mute  expectation  which  nothing  could 
astonish. 

It  might  be  an  elopement — it  might  be  that  they  were 
going  as  missionaries  ;  but  no  one  expressed  a  positive 
opinion,  and  every  one  expressed  a  perfect  willingness  to 
believe  anything  that  was  supported  by  even  a  shadow  of 
proof. 


GUZZY'S   CUSTOMERS  INCREASE.  297 

\ 

Their  mute  agony  was  suddenly  ended,  for  within  forty- 
eight  hours  Guzzy  and  his  traveling  companion  returned. 

The  latter  seemed  unusually  happy  for  the  wife  of  a  con- 
vict, while  the  former  went  straight  to  Squire  Jones  and  the 
constable's. 

Half  an  hour  later  all  Bowerton  knew  that  William  Beigh, 
alias  Bay  Billy,  alias  Handsome,  had  received  a  full  and  free 
pardon  from  the  Governor. 

The  next  day  Bowerton  saw  a  tall,  handsome  stranger, 
with  downcast  eyes,  walk  rapidly  through  the  principal 
street  and  disappear  behind  Mrs.  Wyett's  gate. 

A  day  later,  and  Bowerton  was  electrified  by  the  intelli- 
gence that  the  ex-burglar  had  been  installed  as  a  clerk  in 
Guzzy's  store. 

People  said  that  it  was  a  shame — that  nobody  knew  how 
soon  Beigh  might  take  to  his  old  tricks  again.  Nevertheless, 
they  crowded  to  Guzzy's  store,  to  look  at  him,  until  shrewd 
people  began  to  wonder  whether  Guzzy  hadn't  really  taken 
Beigh  as  a  sort  of  advertisement  to  draw  trade. 

A  few  months  later,  however,  they  changed  their  opin- 
ions, for  the  constable,  after  the  expiration  of  his  term  of 
office,  and  while  under  the  influence  of  a  glass  too  much, 
related  the  whole  history  of  the  night  of  Beigh's  first  arrival 
at  Bowerton. 

The  Bowertonians  were  law-abiding  people ;  but,  some- 
how, Guzzy's  customers  increased  from  that  very  day,  and 
his  prosperity  did  not  decline  even  after  "  Guzzy  &  Beigh  " 
was  the  sign  over  the  door  of  the  store  which  had  been  built 
and  stocked  with  Mrs.  Wyett's  money. 


A   BOMANCE    OF    HAPPY   BEST. 

HAPPY  BEST  is  a  village  whose  name  lias  never  ap- 
peared in  gazetteer  or  census  report.  This  remark 
should  not  cause  any  depreciation  of  the  faithfulness  of 
public  and  private  statisticians,  for  Happy  Best  belonged 
to  a  class  of  settlements  which  sprang  up  about  as  sudden- 
ly as  did  Jonah's  Gourd,  and,  after  a  short  existence,  disap- 
peared so  quickly  that  the  last  inhabitant  generally  found 
himself  alone  before  he  knew  that  anything  unusual  was 
going  on. 

When  the  soil  of  Happy  Best  supported  nothing  more 
artificial  than  a  broken  wagon  wheel,  left  behind  by  some 
emigrants  going  overland  to  California,  a  deserter  from  a 
fort  near  by  discovered  that  the  soil  was  auriferous. 

His  statement  to  that  effect,  made  in  a  bar-room  in  the 
first  town  he  reached  thereafter,  led  to  his  being  invited  to 
drink,  which  operation  resulted  in  certain  supplementary 
statements  and  drinks. 

Within  three  hours  every  man  within  five  miles  of  that 
barroom  knew  that  the  most  paying  dirt  on  the  continent 
had  been  discovered  not  far  away,  and  three  hours  later  a 
large  body  of  gold-hunters,  guided  by  the  deserter,  were  en 
route  for  the  auriferous  locality;  while  a  storekeeper  and 
a  liquor-dealer,  with  their  respective  stocks-in-trade,  fol- 
lowed closely  after. 

The  ground  was  found ;  it  proved  to  be  tolerably  rich ; 
tents  went  up,  underground  residences  were  burrowed,  and 
the  grateful  miners  ordered  the  barkeeper  to  give  unlimited 
credit  to  the  locality's  discoverer.  The  barkeeper  obeyed 

298 


THE  CONDITION  OF  SOCIETY.  299 

the  order,  and  the  ex-warrior  speedily  met  his  death  in  a 
short  but  glorious  contest  with  John  Barleycorn. 

There  was  no  available  lumber  from  which  to  construct 
a  coffin,  and  the  storekeeper  had  no  large  boxes ;  but  as  the 
liquor-seller  had  already  emptied  two  barrels,  these  were 
taken,  neatly  joined  in  the  centre,  and  made  to  contain 
hhe  remains  of  the  founder  of  the  hamlet.  The  method 
of  his  death  and  origin  of  his  coffin  led  a  spirituous  miner 
io  suggest  that  he  rested  happily,  and  from  this  remark  the 
name  of  the  town  was  elaborated. 

Of  course,  no  ladies  accompanied  the  expedition.  Men 
who  went  West  for  gold  did  not  take  their  families  with 
them,  as  a  rule,  and  the  settlers  of  new  mining  towns  were 
all  of  the  masculine  gender. 

When  a  town  had  attained  to  the  dignity  of  a  hotel, 
members  of  the  gentler  sex  occasionally  appeared,  but — 
with  the  exception  of  an  occasional  washerwoman — their 
influence  was  decidedly  the  reverse  of  that  usually  attrib- 
uted to  woman's  society. 

For  the  privileges  of  their  society,  men  fought  with  pis- 
tols and  knives,  and  bought  of  them  disgrace  and  sorrow 
for  gold.  But  at  first  Happy  Rest  was  unblessed  and  un- 
cursed  by  the  presence  of  any  one  who  did  not  wear  pan- 
taloons. 

On  the  fifth  day  of  its  existence,  however,  when  the  ar- 
rival of  an  express  agent  indicated  that  Capital  had  for- 
mally acknowledged  the  existence  of  Happy  Best,  there 
was  an  unusual  commotion  in  the  never-quiet  village. 

An  important  rumor  had  spread  among  the  tents  and 
gopher-holes,  and,  one  after  another,  the  citizens  visited  the 
saloon,  took  the  barkeeper  mysteriously  aside,  and,  with 
faces  denoting  the  greatest  concern,  whispered  earnestly  to 
him.  The  barkeeper  felt  his  importance  as  the  sole  cus- 
todian of  all  the  village  news,  but  he  replied  with  affability 
to  all  questions : 

"  Well,  yes ;  there  hed  a  lady  come  ;  come  by  the  same 
stage  as  the  express  agent.  What  kind  ?— Well,  he  really 
couldn't  say — some  might  think  one  way,  an'  some  another. 


300  A   MEMBEK   OF  THE   GENTLE   SEX. 

i 

He  thought  she  was  a  real  lady,  though  she  wouldn't  'low 
anything  to  be  sent  her  from  the  bar,  and  she  hedn't 
brought  no  baggage.  Thought  so — knowed  she  was  a  lady 
— in  fact,  would  bet  drinks  for  the  crowd  on  it.  'Cos  why  ? 
— 'Cos  nobody  heerd  her  cuss  or  seed  her  laugh.  H'd  bet 
three  to  two  she  was  a  lady — might  bet  two  to  one,  ef  he  got 
his  dander  up  on  the  subject.  Then,  on  t'other  hand,  she'd 
axed  for  Major  Axel,  and  the  major,  ez  everybody  know'd, 
was — well,  he  wasn't  'xactly  a  saint.  Besides,  as  the  major 
hedn't  come  to  Happy  Best,  nohow,  it  looked  ez  if  he  was 
dodgin'  her  for  somethin'.  Where  was  she  stopping  ? — up 
to  Old  Psalmsinger's.  Old  Psalm  hed  turned  himself  out 
of  house  an'  home,  and  bought  her  a  new  tea-kettle  to  boot. 
If  anybody  know'd  anybody  that  wanted  to  take  three  to 
two,  send  him  along." 

A  few  men  called  to  bet,  and  bets  were  exchanged  all 
over  the  camp,  but  most  of  the  excitement  centred  about 
the  storekeeper's. 

Argonauts,  pioneers,  heroes,  or  whatever  else  the  early 
gold-seekers  were,  they  were  likewise  mortal  men,  so  they 
competed  vigorously  for  the  few  blacking-brushes,  boxes  of 
blacking,  looking-glasses,  pocket-combs  and  neckties  which 
the  store  contained.  They  bought  toilet-soap,  and  bor- 
rowed razors  ;  and  when  they  had  improved  their  personal 
appearance  to  the  fullest  possible  extent,  they  stood  aim- 
lessly about,  like  unemployed  workmen  in  the  market-place. 
Each  one,  however,  took  up  a  position  which  should  rake 
the  only  entrance -to  old  Psalmsinger's  tent. 

Suddenly,  two  or  three  scores  of  men  struck  various  at- 
titudes, as  if  to  be  photographed,  and  exclaimed  in  unison : 

"There  she  is!" 

From  the  tent  of  old  Psalmsinger  there  had  emerged 
the  only  member  of  the  gentler  sex  who  had  reached  Happy 
Best. 

For  only  a  moment  she  stood  still  and  looked  about  her, 
as  if  uncertain  which  way  to  go ;  but  before  she  had  taken 
a  step,  old  Psalmsinger  raised  his  voice,  and  said : 


RECOGNIZED.  301 

"  I  thort  it  last  night,  when  I  only  seed  her  in  the  moon- 
light, but  I  know  it  now — she's  a  lady,  an'  no  mistake.  Ef 
I  was  a  bettin'  man,  I'd  bet  all  my  dust  on  it,  an'  my  farm 
to  hum  besides !" 

A  number  of  men  immediately  announced  that  they 
would  bet,  in  the  speaker's  place,  to  any  amount,  and  in 
almost  any  odds.  For,  though  old  Psalm,  by  reason  of 
non-participation  in  any  of  the  drinks,  fights,  or  games  with 
which  the  camp  refreshed  itself,  was  considered  a  mere  non- 
entity, it  was  generally  admitted  that  men  of  his  style  could 
tell  a  lady  or  a  preacher  at  sight. 

The  gentle  unknown  finally  started  toward  the  largest 
group  of  men,  seeing  which,  several  smaller  groups  massed 
themselves  on  the  larger  with  alacrity. 

As  she  neared  them,  the  men  could  see  that  she  was 
plainly  dressed,  but  that  every  article  of  attire  was  not  only 
neat  but  tasteful,  and  that  she  had  enough  grace  of  form 
and  carriage  to  display  everything  to  advantage.  A  few 
steps  nearer,  and  she  displayed  a  set  of  sad  but  refined  fea- 
tures, marred  only  by  an  irresolute,  purposeless  mouth. 

Then  an  ex-reporter  from  New  York  turned  suddenly  to  a 
graceless  young  scamp  who  had  once  been  a  regular  orna- 
ment t6  Broadway,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Louise  Mattray,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  'Tis,  by  thunder !"  replied  the  young  man.  "  I  knew 
I'd  seen  her  somewhere.  Wonder  what  she's  doing  here  ?'* 

The  reporter  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Some  wild-goose  speculation,  I  suppose.  Smart  and 
gritty — if  I  had  her  stick  I  shouldn't  be  here — but  she 
always  slips  up — can't  -keep  all  her  wires  well  in  hand. 
Was  an  advertising  agent  when  I  left  the  East — picked  up  a 
good  many  ads,  too,  and  made  folks  treat  her  respectfully, 
when  they'd  have  kicked  a  man  out  of  doors  if  he'd  come 
on  the  same  errand." 

"  Say  she's  been  asking  for  Axel,"  remarked  the  young 
man. 

"That  so!"   queried  the  reporter,  wrinkling  his  brow, 


302  A  BOKN  LEADER. 

and  hurrying  through  his  mental  notebook.  "Oh,  yes — 
there  was  some  talk  about  them  at  one  time.  Some  said 
they  were  married — she  said  so,  but  she  never  took  his 
name.  She  had  a  handsome  son,  that  looked  like  her  and 
the  major,  but  she  didn't  know  how  to  manage  him — went 
to  the  dogs,  or  worse,  before  he  was  eighteen." 

"Axell  here.?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"  No,"  replied  the  reporter ;  "  and  'twouldn't  do  her  any 
good  if  he  was.  The  major's  stylish  and  good-looking,  and 
plays  a  brilliant  game,  but  he  hasn't  any  more  heart  than 
is  absolutely  necessary  to  his  circulation.  Besides,  his "" 

The  reporter  was  interrupted  by  a  heavy  hand  falling  on 
his  shoulder,  and  found,  on  turning,  that  the  hand  belonged 
to  "The  General." 

The  general  was  not  a  military  man,  but  his  title  had 
been  conferred  in  recognition  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  born 
leader.  Wherever  he  went  the  general  assumed  the  reins 
of  government,  and  his  administration  had  always  been 
popular  as  well  as  judicious. 

But  at  this  particular  moment  the  general  seemed  to  feel 
unequal  to  what  was  evidently  his  duty,  and  he,  like  a  skill- 
ful general,  sought  a  properly  qualified  assistant,  and  the 
reporter  seemed  to  him  to  be  just  the  man  he  wanted. 

"  Spidertracks,"  said  the  general,  with  an  air  in  which 
authority  and  supplication  were  equally  prominent,  "  you've 
told  an  awful  sight  of  lies  in  your  time.  Don't  deny  it,  now 
— nobody  that  ever  reads  the  papers  will  b'leeve  you. 
Now's  yer  chance  to  put  yer  gift  of  gab  to  a  respectable 
use.  The  lady's  bothered,  and  wants  to  say  somethin'  or 
ask  somethin',  and  she'll  understand  your  lingo  better'n 
mine.  Fire  away  now,  lively  !" 

The  ex-shorthand-writer  seemed  complimented  by  the 
general's  address,  and  stepping  forward  and  raising  the  re- 
mains of  what  had  once  been  a  hat,  said : 

"  Can  I  serve  you  in  any  way,  madame  ?" 

The  lady  glanced  at  him  quickly  and  searchingly,  and 
then,  seeming  assured  of  the  reporter's  honesty,  replied : 


SPIDEBTBACKS'S    OFFER.  303 

"I  am  looking  for  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine — one 
Major  Axell." 

"  He  is  not  in  camp,  ma'am,"  said  Spidertracks.  "  He 
was  at  Rum  Yalley  a  few  days  ago,  when  our  party  was 
organized  to  come  here." 

"  I  was  there  yesterday,"  said  the  lady,  looking  greatly 
disappointed,  "  and  was  told  he  started  for  here  a  day  01 
two  before." 

"  Some  mistake,  ma'am,  I  assure  you,"  replied  Spider- 
tracks.  "I  should  have  known  of  his  arrival  if  he  had 
come.  I'm  an  old  newspaper  man,  ma'am,  and  can't  get  out 
of  the  habit  of  getting  the  news." 

The  lady  turned  away,  but  seemed  irresolute.  The  re- 
porter followed  her. 

"  If  you  will  return  to  Bum  Valley,  ma'am,  I'll  find  the 
major  for  you,  if  he  is  hereabouts,"  said  he.  "  You  will  be 
more  comfortable  there,  and  I  will  be  more  likely  than  you 
to  find  him." 

The  lady  hesitated  for  a  moment  longer ;  then  she  drew 
from  her  pocket  a  diary,  wrote  a  line  or  two  on  one  of  its 
leaves,  tore  it  out  and  handed  it  to  the  reporter. 

"  I  will  accept  your  offer,  and  be  very  grateful  for  it,  for 
I  do  not  bear  this  mountain .  traveling  very  well.  If  you 
find  him,  give  him  this  scrawl  and  tell  him  where  I  am — 
that  will  be  sufficient." 

"  Trust  me  to  find  him,  ma'am,"  replied  Spidertracks. 
"And  as  the  stage  is  just  starting,  and  there  won't  be 
another  for  a  week,  allow  me  to  see  you  into  it.  Any  bag- 
gage?" 

"  Only  a  small  hand-bag  in  the  tent,"  said  she. 

They  hurried  off  together,  Spidertracks  found  the  bag, 
and  five  minutes  later  was  bowing  and  waving  his  old  hat 
to  the  cloud  of  dust  which  the  departing  stage  left  behind 
it.  But  when  even  the  dust  itself  had  disappeard,  he  drew 
from  his  pocket  the  paper  the  fair  passenger  had  given 
him. 

"  'Tain't   sealed,"  said  he,  reasoning  with  himself,  "  so 


304  LEADING   SENSATION. 

there  can't  be  any  secrets  in  it.  Let's  see — hello!  'Ernest 
is  somewhere  in  this  country  ;  I  wish  to  see  you  about  him 
— and  about  nothing  else.'  "Whew-w-w!  What  splendid 
material  for  a  column,  if  there  was  only  a  live  paper  in  this 
infernal  courftry!  Looking  for  that  young  scamp,  eh? 
There  is  something  to  her,  and  I'll  help  her  if  I  can. 
Wonder  if  I'd  recognize  him  if  I  saw  him  again  ?  I  ought 
to,  if  he  looks  as  much  like  his  parents  as  he  used  to  do. 
'Twould  do  my  soul  good  to  make  the  poor  woman  smile 
once  ;  but  it's  an  outrageous  shame  there's  no  good  daily 
paper  here  to  work  the  whole  thing  up  in.  With  the  chase, 
and  fighting,  and  murder  that  may  come  of  it,  'twould  make 
the  leading  sensation  for  a  week !" 

The  agonized  reporter  clasped  his  hands  behind  him  and 
walked  slowly  back  to  where  he  had  left  the  crowd.  Most 
of  the  citizens  had,  on  seeing  the  lady  depart,  taken  a  drink 
as  a  partial  antidote  to  dejection,  and  strolled  away  to  their 
respective  claims,  regardless  of  the  occasional  mud  which 
threatened  the  polish  on  their  boots ;  but  two  or  three  gen- 
tlemen of  irascible  tempers  and  judicial  minds  lingered,  to 
decide  whether  Spidertracks  had  not,  by  the  act  of  seeing 
the  lady  to  the  stage,  made  himself  an  accessory  to  her  de- 
parture, and  consequently  a  fit  subject  for  challenge  by  every 
disappointed  man  in  camp. 

The  reporter  was  in  the  midst  of  a  very  able  and  voluble 
defense,  when  the  attention  of  his  hearers  seemed  distracted 
by  something  on  the  trail  by  which  the  original  settlers  had 
entered  the  village. 

Spidertracks  himself  looked,  shaded  his  eyes,  indulged 
in  certain  disconnected  fragments  of  profanity,  and  finally 
exclaimed : 

Axell  himself,  by  the  white  coat  of  Horace  Greeley ! 
Wonder  who  he's  got  with  him  !  They  seem  to  be  having  a 
difficulty  about  something !" 

The  gentlemen  who  had  arraigned  Spidertracks  allowed 
him  to  be  acquitted  by  default.  Far  better  to  them  was  a 
fight  near  by  than  the  most  interesting  lady  afar  off. 


TWO  KEEPEKS.  305 

They  stuck  their  hands  into  their  pockets,  and  stared  in- 
tently. Finally  one  of  them,  in  a  tone  of  disgusted  resigna- 
tion, remarked : 

"Axell  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  hisself ;  he's  draggin' 
along  a  little  feller  not  half  the  size  lie  is.  Blamed  if  he 
ain't  got  his  match,  though  ;  the  little  feller's  jest  doin'  some 
gellorious  chawin'  an'  diggin'." 

The  excitement  finally  overcame  the  inertia  of  the  party, 
and  each  man  started  deliberately  to  meet  the  major  and 
his  captive.  Spidertracks,  faithful  to  his  profession,  kept 
well  in  advance  of  the  others.  Suddenly  he  exclaimed  to 
himself : 

"  Good  Lord  !  don't  they  know  each  other  ?  The  major 
didn't  wear  that  beard  when  in  New  York ;  but  the  boy — 
he's  just  the  same  scamp,  in  spite  of  his  dirt  and  rags.  If 
she  were  to  see  them  now — but,  pshaw !  'twould  all  fall  flat 
— no  live  paper  to  take  hold  of  the  matter  and  work  it  up." 

"  There,  curse  your  treacherous  heart !"  roared  the  major, 
as  he  gave  his  prisoner  a  push  which  threw  him  into  the 
reporter's  arms.  "Now  we're  in  a  civilized  community,  and 
you'll  have  a  chance  of  learning  the  opinions  of  gentlemen 
on  such  irregularities.  Tried  to  kill  me,  gentlemen,  upon 
my  honor ! — did  it  after  I  had  shared  my  eatables  and 
pocket-pistol  with  him,  too.  Did  it  to  get  my  dust.  Got 
me  at  a  disadvantage  for  a  moment,  and  made  a  formal  de- 
mand for  the  dust,  and  backed  his  request  with  a  pistol — 
my  own  pistol,  gentlemen !  I've  only  just  reached  here  ;  I 
don't  yet  know  who's  here,  but  I  imagine  there's  public 
spirit  enough  to  discourage  treachery.  Will  some  one  see 
to  him  while  I  take  something  ?" 

Spidertracks  drew  his  revolver,  mildly  touched  the  young 
man  on  the  shoulder,  and  remarked  : 

"  Come  on." 

The  ex-knight  of  the  pencil  bowed  his  prisoner  into  an 
abandoned  gopher-hole  (i.  e.,  an  artificial  cave,)  cocked  his 
revolver,  and  then  stretched  himself  on  the  ground  and  de- 
voted himself  to  staring  at  the  unfortunate  youth.  To  a 

20 


306  SISTEB  OF  CHARITY. 

student  of  human  nature  Ernest  Mattray  was  curious,  fascin- 
ating, and  repulsive.  Short,  slight,  handsome,  delicate, 
nervous,  unscrupulous,  selfish,  effeminate,  dishonest,  and 
cruel,  he  was  an  excellent  specimen  of  what  city  life  could 
make  of  a  boy  with  no  father  and  an  irresolute  mother. 

The  reporter,  who  had  many  a  time  studied  faces  in  the 
Tombs,  felt  almost  as  if  at  his  old  vocation  again  as  he 
gazed  into  the  restless  eyes  and  sullen  features  of  the  pris- 
oner. 

Meanwhile  Happy  Best  was  becoming  excited.  There 
had  been  some  little  fighting  done  since  the  settlement  of 
the  place,  but  as  there  had  been  no  previous  attempt  at 
highway  robbery  and  murder  made  in  the  vicinity,  the  pris- 
oner was  an  object  of  considerable  interest. 

In  fact,  the  major  told  so  spirited  a  story,  that  most  of 
the  inhabitants  strolled  up,  one  after  another,  to  look  at  the 
innovator,  while  that  individual  himself,  with  the  modesty 
which  seems  inseparable  from  true  greatness,  retired  to  the 
most  secluded  of  the  three  apartments  into  which  the  cave 
was  divided,  and  declined  all  the  attentions  which  were 
thrust  upon  him. 

The  afternoon  had  faded  almost  into  evening,  when  a 
decrepit  figure,  in  a  black  dress  and  bonnet,  approached  the 
cave,  and  gave  Spidertracks  a  new  element  for  the  thrilling 
report  he  had  composed  and  mentally  rearranged  during  his 
few  hours  of  duty  as  jailer. 

"  Beats  the  dickens,"  muttered  the  reporter  to  himself, 
"  how  these  Sisters  of  Charity  always  know  when  a  tough 
case  has  been  caught.  Natural  enough  in  New  York.  But 
where  did  she  come  from  ?  Who  told  her  ?  Cross,  beads, 
and  all.  Hello  !  Oh,  Louise  Mattray,  you're  a  deep  one  ; 
but  it's  a  pity  your  black  robe  isn't  quite  long  enough  to 
hide  the  very  tasty  dress  you  wore  this  morning  ?  Queer 
dodge,  too — wonder  what  it  means  ?  Wonder  if  she's  caught 
sight  of  the  major,  and  don't  want  to  be  recognized  ?" 

The  figure  approached. 

"  May  I  see  the  prisoner  ?"  she  asked. 


STRANGE  NOISES  IN  CAMP.  307" 

"No  one  has  a  better  right,  Mrs.  Mattray,"  said  the 
guardian  of  the  caye,  with  a  triumphant  smile,  while  the 
poor  woman  started  and  trembled.     "  Don't  be  frightened — 
no  one  is  going  to  hurt  you.     Heard  all  about  it,  I  suppose  ? ' 
— know  who  just  missed  being  the  victim  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  unhappy  woman,  entering  the  cave. 

When  she  emerged  it  was  growing  quite  dark.  She 
passed  the  reporter  with  head  and  vail  down,  and  whis- 
pered : 

"  Thank  you." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  the  reporter,  quickly.  "  Going 
to  stay  until  you  see  how  things  go  with  him  ?" 

She  shook  her  head  and  passed  on. 

The  sky  grew  darker.     The  reporter  almost  wished  it. 
might  grow  so  dark  that  the  prisoner  could  escape  unper- 
ceived,  or  so  quickly  that  a  random  shot  could  not  find  him. 
There  were  strange  noises  in  camp. 

The  storekeeper,  who  never  traveled  except  by  daylight, 
was  apparently  harnessing  his  mules  to  the  wagon — he  was 
moving  the  wagon  itself  to  the  extreme  left  of  the  camp, 
where  there  was  nothing  to  haul  but  wood,  and  even  that 
was  still  standing  in  the  shape  of  fine  old  trees. 

There  seemed  to  be  an  unusual  clearness  in  the  air,  for 
Spidertracks  distinctly  heard  the  buzz  of  some  earnest  con- 
versation. There  seemed  strange  shadows  floating  in  the 
air — a  strange  sense  of  something  moving  toward  him — 
something  almost  shapeless,  yet  tangible — something  that 
approached  him — that  gave  him  a  sense  of  insecurity  and 
then  of  alarm.  Suddenly  the  indefinable  something  uttered  a 
yell,  and  resolved  itself  into  a  party  of  miners,  led  by  the 
gallant  and  aggrieved  major  himself,  who  shouted  : 

"  Lynch  the  scoundrel,  boys — that's  the  only  thing  to- 
do!" 

The  excited  reporter  sprang  to  his  feet  in  an/  agony  of 
genuine  humanity  and  suppressed  itemizing,  and  screamed  : 
"  Major,  wait  a  minute — you'll  be  sorry  if  you  don't !" 
But  the  gallant  major  had  been  at  the  bar  for  two  or 


308  THE  OCCUPANT  OF  THE  CAVE. 

three  hours,  preparing  himself  for  this  valorous  deed,  and 
the  courage  he  had  there  imbibed  knew  not  how  to  brook 
delay — not  until  the  crowd  had  reached  the  mouth  of  the 
cave  and  found  it  dark,  and  had  heard  one  unduly  prudent 
miner  suggest  that  it  might  be  well  to  have  a  light,  so  as  to 
dodge  being  sliced  in  the  dark. 

"  Bring  a  light  quick,  then,"  shouted  the  major.  "  PU 
drag  him  out  when  it  comes;  he  knows  my  grip,  curse  him  !" 

A  bunch  of  dried  grass  was  hastily  lighted  and  thrown 
into  the  cave,  and  the  major  rapidly  followed  it,  while  as 
many  miners  as  could  crowd  in  after  him  hastened  to  do  so. 
They  found  the  major,  with  white  face  and  trembling  limbs, 
standing  in  front  of  the  lady  for  whose  sake  they  had  done 
so  much  elaborate  dressing  in  the  morning,  and  who  they 
had  afterwards  wrathfully  seen  departing  in  the  stage. 

The  major  rallied,  turned  around,  and  said  : 

"There's  some  mistake  here,  gentlemen.  "Won't  you 
have  the  kindness  to  leave  us  alone  ?" 

Slowly — very  slowly — the  crowd  withdrew.  It  seemed  to 
them  that,  in  the  nature  of  things,  the  lady  ought  to  have  it 
out  with  the  major  with  pistols  or  knives  for  disturbing  her, 
and  that  they,  who  were  in  all  the  sadness  of  disappoint- 
ment at  failure  of  a  well-planned  independent  execution, 
ought  to  see  the  end  of  the  whole  affair.  But  a  beseeching 
look  from  the  lady  herself  finally  cleared  the  cave,  and  the 
major  exclaimed  : 

"  Louise,  what  does  this  mean  ?" 

"  It  means,"  said  the  lady,  with  most  perfect  composure, 
"  that,  thanks  to  a  worthless  father  and  a  bad  bringing-up 
by  an  incapable  mother,  Ernest  has  found  his  way  into  this 
country.  I  came  to  find  him,  and  I  found  him  in  this  hole, 
to  which  his  affectionate  father  brought  him  to-day.  It  is 
about  as  well,  I  imagine,  that  I  helped  him  to  escape,  seeing 
to  what  further  kind  attentions  you  had  reserved  him." 

"Please  don't  be  so  icy,  Louise,"  begged  the  major. 
"  He  attempted  to  rob  and  kill  me,  the  young  rascal ;  besides, 
I  had  not  the  faintest  idea  of  who  he  was." 


OH!    FOB  A  DAILY  PAPER.  309 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  lady,  still  very  calm,  "  you  will  tell 
me  from  whom  he  inherited  the  virtues  which  prompted  his 
peculiar  actions  towards  you  ?  His  mother  has  always 
earned  her  livelihood  honorably." 

"  Louise,"  said  the  major,  with  a  humility  which  would 
have  astonished  his  acquaintance,  "won't  you  have  the 
kindness  to  reserve  your  sarcasm  until  I  am  better  able  to 
bear  it  ?  You  probably  think  I  have  no  heart — I  acknow- 
ledge I  have  thought  as  much  myself — but  something  is 
making  me  feel  very  weak  and  tender  just  now." 

The  lady  looked  critically  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  God !"  she  sobbed,  "  what  else  is  there  in  store  for 
this  poor,  miserable,  injured  life  of  mine  ?" 

"  Kestitution,"  whispered  the  major  softly — "  if  you  will 
let  me  make  it,  or  try  to  make  it." 

The  weeping  woman  looked  up  inquiringly,  and  said  only 
the  words  : 

" And  she?" 

"  My  first  wife  ?"  answered  the  major.  "  Dead — really 
dead,  Louise,  as  I  hope  to  be  saved.  She  died  several 
years  ago,  and  I  longed  to  do  you  justice  then,  but  the 
memory  of  our  parting  was  too  much  for  my  cowardly  soul. 
If  you  will  take  me  as  I  am,  Louise,  I  will,  as  long  as  I  live, 
remember  the  past,  and  try  to  atone  for  it" 

She  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  they  left  the  gopher-hole 
together.  As  they  disappeared  in  the  outer  darkness,  there 
emerged  from  one  of  the  compartments  of  the  cave  an  indi- 
vidual whose  features  were  indistinguishable  in  the  dark- 
ness, but  who  was  heard  to  emphatically  exclaim  : 

"  If  I  had  the  dust,  I'd  start  a  live  daily  here,  just  to  tell 
the  whole  story ;  though  the  way  he  got  out  didn't  do  me 
any  particular  credit." 

*  #  #  *•  #  #  # 

For  days  the  residents  of  Happy  Best  used  all  available 
mental  stimulants  to  aid  them  in  solving  the  mystery  of  the 
major  and  the  wonderful  lady;  but,  as  the  mental  stimu- 


310 


NOT  A  RAIN-DROP. 


lants  aforesaid  were  all  spirituous,  the  results  were  more 
deplorable  than  satisfactory.  But  when,  a  few  days  later, 
the  couple  took  the  stage  for  Bum  Valley,  the  enterprising 
Spidertracks  took  an  outside  passage,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  route  had  his  persistency  rewarded  by  seeing,  in  the 
Bangup  House,  a  Sister  of  Charity  tenderly  embrace  the 
major's  fair  charge,  start  at  the  sight  of  the  major,  and  then, 
after  some  whispering  by  the  happy  mother,  sullenly  ex 
tend  a  hand,  which  the  major  grasped  heartily,  and  over 
which  there  dropped  something  which,  though  a  drop  of 
water,  was  not  a  rain-drop.  Then  did  Spidertracks  return 
to  the  home  of  his  adoption,  and  lavish  the  stores  of  his 
memory  ;  and  for  days  his  name  was  famous,  and  his  liquor 
was  paid  for  by  admiring  auditors. 


TWO    POWEEFUL    AEGUMENTS. 

^riOT  him?" 
\J      "  You  bet !" 

The  questioner  looked  pleased,  yet  not  as  if  his  pleasure 
•engendered  any  mental  excitement.  The  man  who  answered 
spoke  in  an  ordinary,  careless  tone,  and  with  unmoved 
countenance,  as  if  he  were  merely  signifying  the  employ- 
ment of  an  additional  workman,  or  the  purchase  of  a  desira- 
ble rooster. 

Yet  the  subject  of  the  brief  conversation  repeated  above 
was  no  other  than  Bill  Bowney,  the  most  industrious 
.and  successful  of  the  horse-thieves  and  "  road-agents  "  that 
honored  the  southern  portion  of  California  with  their 
presence. 

Nor  did  Bowney  restrict  himself  to  the  duty  of  redistri- 
buting the  property  of  other  people.  Perhaps  he  belonged 
to  that  class  of  political  economists  which  considers  super- 
fluous population  an  evil ;  perhaps  he  was  a  religious  en- 
thusiast, and  ardently  longed  that  all  mankind  should  speed- 
ily see  the  pearly  gates  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Be  his  motives  what  they  might,  it  is  certain  that  when 
an  unarmed  man  met  Bowney,  entered  into  a  discussion  with 
him,  and  lived  verbally  to  report  the  same,  he  was  looked 
upon  with  considerably  more  interest  than  a  newly-made 
Congressman  or  a  ten-thousand-acre  farmer  was  able  to 
inspire. 

The  two  men  whose  conversation  we  have  recorded 

311 


312  SHERIFF  AND   JUDGE   TOO   SLOW. 

studied  the  ears  of  their  own  horses  for  several  minutes, 
after  which  the  first  spe  iker  asked  : 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Well,"  replied  the  other  man,  "  ther'  wasn't  anything 
p'tickler  'bout  it.  Me  an'  him  wuzn't  acquainted,  so  he  didn't 
suspect  me.  But  I  know'd  his  face — he  wuz  p'inted  out  to 
me  once,  durin'  the  gold-rush  to  Kern  River,  an'  I  never  for- 
got him.  I  wuz  on  a  road  I  never  traveled  before — goin'  to 
see  an  old  greaser,  ownin'  a  mighty  pretty  piece  of  ground  I 
wanted — when  all  of  a  sudden  I  come  on  a  cabin,  an'  thar 
stood  Bill  in  front  of  it,  a-smokin'.  I  axed  him  fur  a  light, 
an'  when  he  came  up  to  give  it  to  me,  I  grabbed  him  by  the 
shirt-collar  an'  dug  the  spur  into  the  mare.  'Twus  kind  of 
a  mean  trick,  imposin'  on  hospitality  that-a-way  ;  but  'twuz 
Bowney,  you  know.  Ho  hollered,  an'  I  let  him  walk  in 
front,  but  I  kep'  him  covered  with  the  revolver  till  I  met 
some  fellers,  that  tied  him  good  an'  tight.  'Twuzn't  excitin' 
wurth  a  durn — that  is,  ixcep'  when  his  wife — I  s'pose  'twuz 
— hollered,  then  I  a'most  wished  I'd  let  him  go." 

"Sheriff  got  him?"  inquired  the  first  speaker. 

"Well,  no,"  returned  the  captor.  "Sheriff  an'  judge 
mean  well,  I  s'pose  ;  but  they're  slow — mighty  slow.  Be- 
sides, he's  got  friends,  an'  t^ey  might  be  too  much  fur  the 
sheriff  some  night.  We  tuk  him  to  the  Broad  Oak,  an'  we 
thought  we'd  ax  the  neighbors  over  thar  to-night,  to  talk 
it  over.  Be  thar  ?" 

"  You  bet !"  replied  the  first  speaker.  "  And  I'll  bring 
my  friends  ;  nothing  like  having  plenty  of  witnesses  in  im- 
portant legal  cases." 

"Jus'  so,"  responded  the  other.  "Well,  here's  till  then ;" 
and  the  two  men  separated. 

The  Broad  Oak  was  one  of  those  magnificent  trees  which 
are  found  occasionally  through  Southern  California,  singly  or 
dispersed  in  handsome  natural  parks. 

The  specimen  which  had  so  impressed  people  as  to  gain 
a  special  name  for  itself  was  not  only  noted  for  its  size,  but 
because  i:  had  occasionally  been  selected  as  the  handiest 


OBJECT  OF  THE  MEETING.  313 

place  in  which  Judge  Lynch  could  hold  his  court  without 
fear  of  molestation  by  rival  tribunals. 

Bill  Bowney,  under  favorable  circumstances,  appeared  to 
be  a  very  homely,  lazy,  sneaking  sort  of  an  invidual;  but  Bill 
Bowney,  covered  with  dust,  his  eyes  bloodshot,  his  clothes 
torn,  and  his  hands  and  feet  tightly  bound,  had  not  a  single 
attractive  feature  about  him. 

He  stared  earnestly  up  into  the  noble  tree  under  whose 
shadow  he  lay ;  but  his  glances  were  not  of  admiration — 
they  seemed,  rather,  to  be  resting  on  two  or  three  fragments 
of  rope  which  remained  on  one  of  the  lower  limbs,  and  to 
express  sentiments  of  the  most  utter  loathing  and  disgust. 

The  afternoon  wore  away,  and  the  moon  shone  brilliantly 
down  from  the  cloudless  sky. 

The  tramp  of  a  horse  was  heard  at  a  distance,  but  rapidly 
growing  more  distinct,  and  soon  Bowney's  captor  galloped 
up  to  the  tree. 

Then  another  horse  was  heard,  then  others,  and  soon  ten 
or  a  dozen  men  were  gathered  together. 

Each  man,  after  dismounting,  walked  up  to  where  the 
captive  lay,  and  gave  him  a  searching  look,  and  then  they 
joined  those  who  had  already  preceded  them,  and  who  were 
quietly  chatting  about  wheat,  cattle,  trees — everything  but 
the  prisoner. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  party  separated  himself  from  the 
others,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Gentlemen,  there  don't  seem  to  be  anybody  else  a-comin* 
— we  might  as  well  'tend  to  bizness.  I  move  that  Major 
Burkess  takes  the  chair,  if  there's  no  objections." 

No  objections  were  made,  and  Major  Burkess — a  slight, 
peaceable,  gentlemanly-looking  man — stepped  out  of  the 
crowd,  and  said : 

"  You  all  know  the  object  of  this  meeting,  gentlemen.  The 
first  thing  in  order  is  to  prove  the  identity  of  the  prisoner." 

"  Needn't  trouble  yourself  'bout  that,"  growled  the  pris- 
oner. "  I'm  Bill  Bowney ;  an'  yer  too  cowardly  to  untie  me, 
though  ther  be  a  dozen  uv  yer." 


314  PROVED   MEAN  AND  COWARDLY. 

"  The  prisoner  admits  lie  is  Bill  Bowney,"  continued  the 
major,  "  but  of  course  no  gentleman  will  take  offense  at  his 
remarks.  Has  any  one  any  charge  to  make  against  him?" 

"  Charges  ?"  cried  an  excitable  farmer.  "  Didn't  I  catch 
him  untying  my  horse,  an'  ridin'  off  on  him  from  Budley's  ? 
Didn't  I  tell  him  to  drop  that  anamile,  an'  didn't  he  purty 
near  drop  me  instead  ?  Charges  ? — here's  the  charge  !"  con- 
cluded the  farmer,  pointing  significantly  to  a  scar  on  his  own 
temple. 

"Pity  I  didn't  draw  a  better  bead  !"  growled  the  prisoner. 
"  The  hoss  only  fetched  two  ounces." 

"  Prisoner  admits  stealing  Mr.  Barke's  horse,  and  firing 
on  Mr.  Barke.  Any  further  evidence  ?" 

"  Kather,  drawled  an  angular  gentleman.  "  I  was  goin' 
up  the  valley  by  the  stage,  an'  all  of  a  sudden  the  driver 
stopped  where  there  wasn't  no  station.  There  was  fellers 
had  hold  of  the  leaders,  an'  there  was  pistols  p'inted  at  the 
driver  an'  folks  in  general.  Then  our  money  an'  watches 
was  took,  an'  the  feller  that  took  mine  had  a  cross-cut  scar 
on  the  back  of  his  hand — right  hand  ;  maybe  somebody'll 
look  at  Bill's." 

The  prisoner  was  carried  into  the  moonlight,  and  the  back 
of  his  right  hand  was  examined  by  the  major.  The  prisoner 
was  again  placed  under  the  tree. 

"  The  cut's  there,  as*  described,"  said  the  major.  "  Any- 
thing else  ?" 

"  Ther's  this  much,"  said  another.  "  I  busted  up  flat, 
you  all  know,  on  account  of  the  dry  season,  last  year,  an'  I 
hadn't  nothin'  left  but  my  hoss.  Bill  Bowney  knowed  it  as 
well's  anybody  else,  yet  he  come  and  stole  that  hoss.  It 
pawed  like  thunder,  an'  woke  me  up — fur  'twas  night,  an' 
light  as  'tis  now — an'  I  seed  Bowney  a-ridin*  him  off.  'Twas 
a  sneakin',  mean,  cowardly  trick." 

The  prisoner  hung  his  head ;  he  would  plead  guilty  to 
theft  and  attempt  to  kill,  and  defy  his  captors  to  do  their 
worst ;  but  when  meanness  and  cowardice  were  proved  against 
him,  he  seemed  ashamed  of  himself. 


JUDGE  LYNCH  ON  THE  BENCH.  315 

"  Prisoner  virtually  admits  the  charge,"  said  the  major, 
looking  critically  at  Bowney. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Caney,  late  of  Texas,  "  what's  the  use 
of  wastin'  time  this  way  ?  Everybody  knows  that  Bowney's 
been  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  deviltry  that's  been  done  in  the 
county  this  three  year.  Highway  robbery's  a  hangin'  offense 
in  Texas  an'  every  other  well-regilated  State ;  so's  hoss- 
stealin',  an'  so's  shootin'  a  man  in  the  back,  an'  yit  Bowney's 
done  ev'ry  one  of  'em  over  an'  over  agin.  Ev'rybody  knows 
what  we  come  here  fur,  else  what's  the  reason  ev'ry  man's 
got  a  nice  little  coil  o'  rope  on  his  saddle  fur  ?  The  longer 
the  bizness  is  put  off,  the  harder  it'll  be  to  do.  I  move  we 
string  him  up  instanter." 

"Second  the  motion!"  exclaimed  some  one. 

"  I  move  we  give  him  a  chance  to  save  himself,"  said  a 
quiet  farmer  from  New  England.  "  When  he's  in  the  road- 
agent  business,  he  has  a  crowd  to  'help  him.  Now,  'twould 
do  us  more  good  to  clean  them  out  than  him  alone,  so  let's 
give  him  a  chance  to  leave  the  State  if  he'll  tell  who  his 
confederates  are.  Somebody '11  have  to  take  care  of  him, 
of  course,  till  we  can  catch  them,  and  make  sure  of  it." 

"  'Twon't  cost  the  somebody  much,  then,"  said  the  pris- 
oner, firmly  ;  "  an'  I'd  give  a  cool  thousand  for  a  shot  at  any 
low-lived  coyote  that  'ud  ax  me  to  do  sich  an  ungentlemanly 
thing." 

"  Spoke  like  a  man,"  said  Caney,  of  Texas.  "  I  hope  ye'll 
die  easy  for  that,  Bill." 

"  The  original  motion  prevails,"  said  the  major  ;  "  all  in 
favor  will  say  ay." 

A  decided  "  ay  "  broke  from  the  party. 

"Whoever  has  the  tallest  horse  will  please  lead  him 
up  and  unsaddle  him,"  said  the  major,  after  a  slight  pause. 
"  The  witnesses  will  take  the  prisoner  in  charge." 

A  horse  was  brought  under  the  limb,  with  the  fragments 
of  rope  upon  it,  and  the  witnesses,  one  of  them  bearing  a 
piece  of  rope,  approached  the  prisoner. 

The  silence  was  terrible,  and  the  feelings  of  all  present 


316  ONE  WAY  OF  GIVING  THE   LIE. 

were  greatly  relieved  when  Bill  Bowney — placed  on  the 
horse,  and  seeing  the  rope  hauled  taught  and  fastened  to  a 
bough  by  a  man  in  the  tree — broke  into  a  frenzy  of  cursing, 
and  displayed  the  defiant  courage  peculiar  to  an  animal  at 
bay. 

"  Has  the  prisoner  anything  to  say  ?"  asked  the  major,  as 
Bowney  stopped  for  breath. 

"  Better  own  up,  and  save  yourself  and  reform,  and  help 
rid  the  world  of  those  other  scoundrels,"  pleaded  the  New 
Englander. 

"  Don't  yer  do  it,  Bill — don't  yer  do  it !"  cried  Caney,  of 
Texas.  "  Stick  to  yer  friends,  an'  die  like  a  man  !" 

"That's  me  !"  said  the  prisoner,  directing  a  special  volley 
of  curses  at  the  NJW  Englander.  "  It's  ben  said  here  that  I 
wuz  sneakin'  an'  cowardly  ;  ther's  one  way  of  givin'  that  fel- 
ler the  lie — hurry  up  an'  do  it !" 

"  When  I  raise  my  h'and,"  said  the  major,  "  lead  the  horse 
away  ;  and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul,  Bow- 
ney !" 

"  Amen  !"  fervently  exclaimed  the  New  Englander. 

Again  there  was  a  moment  of  terrible  silence,  and  when 
a  gentle  wind  swept  over  the  wild  oats  and  through  the  tree, 
there  seemed  to  sound  on  the  air  a  sigh  and  a  shudder. 

Suddenly  all  the  horses  started  and  pricked  up  their  ears. 

"  Somebody's  comin' !"  whispered  one  of  the  party. 
"  Sheriff's  got  wind  of  the  arrangements,  maybe  !" 

"  Comes  from  the  wrong  direction,"  cried  Caney,  of  Texas, 
quickly.  "  It's  somebody  on  foot — an'  tired — an'  light-footed 
— ther's  two  or  three — dunno  what  kind  o'  bein's  they  ken 
be.  Thunder  an'  lightnin'  !" 

Caney's  concluding  remark  was  inspired  by  the  sudden 
appearance  of  a  woman,  who  rushed  into  the  shadow  of  the 
tree,  stopped,  looked  wildly  about  for  a  moment,  and  then 
threw  herself  against  the  prisoner's  feet,  and  uttered  a  low, 
pitiful  cry. 

There  was  a  low  murmur  from  the  crowd,  and  the  major 
cried  : 


A  RESPITE.  317 

"  Take  him  down  ;  give  him  fifteen  minutes  with  his  wife, 
and  see  she  doesn't  untie  him." 

The  man  in  the  tree  loosened  the  rope,  Bowney  was 
lifted  off  and  placed  on  the  ground  again,  and  the  woman 


"  TAKE  HIM  DOWN  ;    GIVE  HIM  FIFTEEN   MINUTES   WITH   HIS  WIFE.7' 

threw  herself  on  the  ground  beside  him,  caressed  his  ugly 
face,  and  wailed  pitifully.  The  judge  and  jury  fidgeted  about 
restlessly.  Still  the  horses  stood  on  the  alert,  and  soon 
.three  came  through  the  oats — three  children,  all  crying. 


318  THREE   CHILDREN,   ALL   GIRLS. 

As  they  saw  the  men  they  became  dumb,  and  stood  mute 
and  frightened,  staring  at  their  parents. 

They  were  not  pretty — they  were  not  even  interesting. 
Mother  and  children  were  alike — unwashed,  uncombed,  shoe- 
less, and  clothed  in  dirty,  faded  calico.  The  children  were 
all  girls — the  oldest  not  more  than  ten  years  old,  and  the 
youngest  scarce  five.  None  of  them  pleaded  for  the  pris- 
oner, but  still  the  woman  wailed  and  moaned,  and  the  chil- 
dren stood  staring  in  dumb  piteousness. 

The  major  stood  quietly  gazing  at  the  face  of  his  watch. 
There  was  not  in  Southern  California  a  more  honest  man 
than  Major  Burkess  ;  yet  the  minute-hand  of  his  watch  had 
not  indicated  more  than  one-half  of  fifteen  minutes,  when  he 
exclaimed  : 

"  Time's  up !" 

The  men  approached  the  prisoner — the  woman  threw 
her  arms  around  him,  and  cried : 

"My  husband!     Oh,  God  !" 

"  Madam,'5  said  the  major,  "  your  husband's  life  is  in  his 
own  hands.  He  can  save  himself  by  giving  the  names  of  his 
confederates  and  leaving  the  State." 

"  I'll  tell  you  who  they  are  ?"  cried  the  woman. 

"  God  curse  yer  if  yer  do !"  hissed  Bowneyfrom  between 
his  teeth. 

"Better  let  him  be,  madam,"  argued  Caney,  of  Texas. 
He'd  better  die  like  a  man  than  go  back  on  his  friends. 
Might  tell  us  which  of  'em  was  man  enough  to  fetch  you  and 
the  young  uns  here  ?  We'll  try  to  be  easy  on  him  when  we 
ketch  him." 

"  None  of  'em,"  sobbed  the  woman.  "  We  walked,  an1  I 
took  turns  totin'  the  young  uns.  My  husband !  Oh,  God  ! 
my  husband !" 

"  Beg  yer  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  Bowney's  captor,  "  but 
nobody  can't  b'leeve  that ;  it's  nigh  onto  twenty  mile." 

"I'd  ha'  done  it  ef  it  had  been  fifty,"  cried  the  woman, 
angrily,  "when  he  wuz  in  trouble.  Oh,  God !  Oh,  God  !  Don't 
yer  b'leeve  it  ?  Then  look  here !"  She  picked  up  the 


319 

smallest  child  as  she  spoke,  and  in  the  dim  light  the  men 
saw  that  its  little  feet  were  torn  and  bleeding.  "  'Twas 
their  blood  or  his'n,"  cried  the  woman,  rapidly,  "  an'  I  didn't 
know  how  to  choose  between  'em.  God  hev  mercy  on  me  ! 
I'm  nigh  crazy  !" 

Caney,  of  Texas,  took  the  child  from  its  mother  and  car- 
ried it  to  where  the  moonlight  was  unobstructed.  He  looked 
carefully  at  its  feet,  and  then  shouted  : 

"  Bring  the  prisoner  out  here." 

Two  men  carried  Bowney  to  where  Caney  was  standing, 
and  the  whole  party,  with  the  woman  and  remaining  chil- 
dren, followed. 

"  Bill,"  said  Caney,  "  /  ain't  a  askin'  yer  to  go  back  on 
yer  friends,  but  them  is — look  at  'em." 

And  Caney  held  the  child's  feet  before  the  father's  eyes, 
while  the  woman  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  the 
two  older  children  crept  up  to  the  prisoner,  and  laid  their 
faces  against  his  legs. 

"  They're  a-talkin'  to  yer,  Bill, "resumed  Caney,  of  Texas, 
"an'  they're  the  convincenist  talkers  /ever  seed." 

The  desperado  turned  his  eyes  away  ;  but  Caney  moved 
the  child  so  its  bleeding  feet  were  still  before  its  father's 
eyes. 

The  remaining  men  all  retired  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
tree,  for  the  tender  little  feet  were  talking  to  them,  too,  and 
they  were  ashamed  of  the  results. 

Suddenly  Bowney  uttered  a  deep  groan. 

"  'Tain't  no  use  a-tryin',"  said  he,  in  a  resigned  tone. 
"  Everybody'll  be  down  on  me,  an'  after  all  I've  done,  too  ! 
But  yer  ken  hev  their  names,  curse  yer  !" 

The  woman  went  into  hysterics  ;  the  children  cried ; 
Caney,  of  Texas,  ejaculated,  "  Bully  !"  and  then  kissed  the 
poor  little  bruised  feet. 

The  New  Englander  fervently  exclaimed,  "  Thank  God  I" 

"  I'll  answer  fur  him  till  we  get  'em,"  said  Caney,  after 
the  major  had  written  down  the  names  Bowney  gave  him  ; 
"  an',"  continued  Caney,  "  somebody  git  the  rest  of  these 


320 


THE  BOWNEYS  EMIGRATE. 


young  uns  an'  ther  mother  to  my  cabin  powerful  quick. 
Good  Lord,  don't  I  jist  wish  they  wuz  boys  !  I'd  adopt  the 
hull  family." 

The  court  informally  adjourned  sine  die,  but  had  so  many 
meetings  afterward  at  the  same  place  to  dispose  of  Bowney's 
accomplices,  that  his  freedom  was  considered  fairly  pur- 
chased, and  he  and  his  family  were  located  a  good  way  from 
the  scenes  of  his  most  noted  exploits. 


ME.  PUTCHETT'S  LOYE. 

TUST  after  two  o'clock,  on  a  July  afternoon,  Mr.  Putchett 
f}  mounted  several  steps  of  the  Sub-Treasury  in  Wall 
Street,  and  gazed  inquiringly  up  and  down  the  street. 

To  the  sentimental  observer  Mr.  Putchett' s  action,  in 
taking  the  position  we  have  indicated,  may  have  seemed  to 
signify  that  Mr.  Putchett  was  of  an  aspiring  disposition,  and 
that  in  ascending  the  steps  he  exemplified  his  desire  to  get 
above  the  curbstone  whose  name  was  used  as  a  qualifying 
adjective  whenever  Mr.  Putchett  was  mentioned  as  a  broker. 
Those  persons,  however,  who  enjoyed  the  honor  of  Mr. 
Putchett's  acquaintance  immediately  understood  that  the 
operator  in  question  was  in  funds  that  day,  and  that  he  had 
taken  the  position  from  which  he  could  most  easily  an- 
nounce his  moneyed  condition  to  all  who  might  desire 
assistance  from  him. 

It  was  rather  late  in  the  day  for  business,  and  certain 
persons  who  had  until  that  hour  been  unsuccessful  in  ob- 
taining the  accommodations  desired  were  not  at  all  particu- 
lar whether  their  demands  were  satisfied  in  a  handsome 
office,  or  under  the  only  roof  that  can  be  enjoyed  free  of  rent. 

There  came  to  Mr.  Putchett  oddly-clothed  members  of 
his  own  profession,  and  offered  for  sale  securities  whose 
numbers  Mr.  Putchett  compared  with  those  on  a  list  of 
bonds  stolen ;  men  who  deposited  with  him  small  articles 
of  personal  property — principally  jewelry — as  collaterals  on 
small  loans  at  short  time  and  usurious  rates ;  men  who 
stood  before  him  on  the  sidewalk,  caught  his  eye,  summoned 

321  21 


322  GETTING  READY  TO  LEAYE. 

him  by  a  slight  motion  of  the  head,  and  disappeared  around 
the  corner,  whither  Mr.  Putchett  followed  them  only  to 
promptly  transact  business  and  hurry  back  to  his  business- 
stand. 

In  fact,  Mr.  Putchett  was  very  busy,  and  as  in  his  case 
business  invariably  indicated  profit,  it  was  not  wonderful 
that  his  rather  unattractive  face  lightened  and  expressed  its 
owner's  satisfaction  at  the  amount  of  business  he  was  doing. 
Suddenly,  however,  there  attacked  Mr.  Putchett  the  fate 
which,  in  its  peculiarity  of  visiting  people  in  their  happiest 
hours,  has  been  bemoaned  by  poets  of  genuine  and  doubtful 
inspiration,  from  the  days  of  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  unto 
those  of  that  sweet  singer  of  Erin,  whose  recital  of  experi- 
ence with  young  gazelles  illustrates  the  remorselessness  of 
the  fate  alluded  to. 

Plainly  speaking,  Mr.  Putchett  went  suddenly  under  a 
cloud,  for  during  one  of  his  dashes  around  the  corner  after  a 
man  who  had  signaled  him,  and  at  the  same  time  commenced 
to  remove  a  ring  from  his  finger,  a  small,  dirty  boy  handed 
Mr.  Putchett  a  soiled  card,  on  which  was  penciled  : 

"  Bayle  is  after  you,  about  that  diamond." 

Despite  the  fact  that  Mr.  Putchett  had  not  been  shaved 
for  some  days,  and  had  apparently  neglected  the  duty  of 
facial  ablution  for  quite  as  long  a  time,  he  turned  pale  and 
looked  quickly  behind  him  and  [across  the  street ;  then 
muttering  "  Just  my  luck !"  and  a  few  other  words  more 
desponding  than  polite  in  nature,  he  hurried  to  the  Post- 
Oifice,  where  he  penciled  and  dispatched  a  few  postal-cards, 
signed  in  initials  only,  announcing  an  unexpected  and  tem- 
porary absence.  Then,  still  looking  carefully  and  often  at 
the  faces  in  sight,  he  entered  a  newspaper  office  and  con- 
sulted a  railway  directory.  He  seemed  in  doubt,  as  he 
rapidly  turned  the  leaves  ;  and  when  he  reached  the  time- 
table of  a  certain  road  running  near  and  parallel  to  the 
seaside,  the  change  in  his  countenance  indicated  that  he 
had  learned  the  whereabouts  of  a  city  of  refuge. 

An  hour  later  Mr.  Putchett,  having  to  bid  no  family 


BOAKD  PAID  IN  ADVANCE.  323 

good-b y,  to  care  for  no  securities  save  those  stowed  away  in 
his  capacious  pockets,  and  freed  from  the  annoyance  of 
baggage  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  he  had  on  his  back  the 
only  outer  garments  that  he  owned,  was  rapidly  leaving 
New  York  on  a  train,  which  he  had  carefully  assured  himself 
did  not  carry  the  dreaded  Bayle. 

Once  fairly  started,  Mr.  Putchett  in  some  measure  re- 
covered his  spirits.  He  introduced  himself  to  a  brakeman 
by  means  of  a  cigar,  and  questioned  him  until  he  satisfied 
himself  that  the  place  to  which  he  had  purchased  a  ticket 
was  indeed  unknown  to  the  world,  being  far  from  the  city, 
several  miles  from  the  railroad,  and  on  a  beach  where  boats 
could  not  safely  land.  He  also  learned  that  it  was  not  a 
fashionable  Summer  resort,  and  that  a  few  farmhouses 
(whose  occupants  took  Summer  boarders)  and  an  unsuccess- 
ful hotel  were  the  only  buildings  in  the  place. 

Arrived  at  his  destination,  Mr.  Putchett  registered  at 
the  hotel  and  paid  the  week's  board  which  the  landlord,  after 
a  critical  survey  of  his  new  patron,  demanded  in  advance. 

Then  the  exiled  operator  tilted  a  chair  in  the  barroom, 
lit  an  execrable  cigar,  and,  instead  of  expressing  sentiments 
of  gratitude  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  gave  way  to  pro- 
fane condemnations  of  the  bad  fortune  which  had  compelled 
him  to  abandon  his  business. 

He  hungrily  examined  the  faces  of  the  few  fishermen  of 
the  neighboring  bay  who  came  in  to  drink  and  smoke,  but 
no  one  of  them  seemed  likely  to  need  money — certainly  no 
one  of  them  seemed  to  have  acceptable  collaterals  about  his 
person  or  clothing.  On  tfye  contrary,  these  men,  while  each 
one  threw  Mr.  Putchett  a  \stare  of  greater  or  less  magnitude, 
let  the  financier  alone  so  completely  that  he  was  conscious 
of  a  severe  wound  in  his  self-esteem. 

It  was  a  strange  experience,  and  at  first  it  angered  him 
so  that  he  strode  up  to  the  bar,  ordered  a  glass  of  best 
brandy,  and  defiantly  drank  alone  ;  but  neither  the  strength 
of  the  liquor  nor  the  intensity  of  his  anger  prevented  him 
from  soon  feeling  decidedly  lonely. 


ON  THE  BEACH. 

At  the  cheap  hotel  at  which  he  lodged  when  in  New 
York  there  was  no  one  who  loved  him  or  even  feared  him, 
but  there  were  a  few  men  of  his  own  kind  who  had,  for  pur- 
poses of  mutual  recreation,  tabooed  business  transactions 
^with  each  other,  and  among  these  he  found  a  grim  sort  of 
enjoyment — of  companionship,  at  least.  Here,  however,  he 
was  so  utterly  alone  as  to  be  almost  frightened,  and  the 
murmuring  and  moaning  of  the  surf  on  the  beach  near  the 
.hotel  added  to  his  loneliness  a  sense  of  terror. 

Almost  overcome  by  dismal  forebodings,  Mr.  Putchett 
hurried  out  of  the  hotel  and  toward  the  beach.  Once  upon 
the  sands,  he  felt  better;  the  few  people  who  were  there 
were  strangers,  of  course,  but  they  were  women  and  children ; 
and  if  the  expression  of  those  who  noticed  him  was  wonder- 
ing, it  was  inoffensive — at  times  even  pitying,  and  Mr.  Put- 
•chett  was  in  a  humor  to  gratefully  accept  even  pity. 

Soon  the  sun  fell,  and  the  people  straggled  toward  their 
respective  boarding-houses,  and  Mr.  Putchett,  to  fight  off 
loneliness  as  long  as  possible,  rose  from  the  bench  on  which 
-he  had  been  sitting  and  followed  the  party  up  the  beach. 

He  had  supposed  himself  the  last  person  that  left  the 
beach,  but  in  a  moment  or  two  he  heard  a  childish  voice 
shouting  : 

"  Mister,  mister  !  I  guess  you've  lost  something  !" 

Mr.  Putchett  turned  quickly,  and  saw  a  little  girl,  six  or 
seven  years  of  age,  running  toward  him.  In  one  hand  she 
held  a  small  pail  and  wooden  shovel,  and  in  the  other  some- 
thing bright,  which  was  too  large  for  her  little  hand  to 
•cover. 

She  reached  the  broker's  side,  turned  up  a  bright, 
healthy  face,  opened  her  hand  and  displayed  a  watch,  and 
said : 

"  It  was  right  there  on  the  bench  where  you  were  sitting. 
I  couldn't  think  what  it  was,  it  shone  so." 

Mr.  Putchett  at  first  looked  suspiciously  at  the  child,  for 
he  had  at  one  period  of  his  life  labored  industriously  in  the 
business  of  dropping  bogus  pocketbooks  and  watches, 


MR.  PUTCHETT'S  NEW  FEIEND. 

325 


THE  FINANCIER  AND  THE  CHILD.  327 

and  obtaining  rewards  from  persons  claiming  to  be  their 
owners. 

Examining  the  watch  which  the  child  handed  him,  how- 
ever, he  recognized  it  as  one  upon  which  he  had  lent  twenty 
dollars  earlier  in  the  day. 

First  prudently  replacing  the  watch  in  the  pocket  of  his 
pantaloons,  so  as  to  avoid  any  complication  while  settling 
with  the  finder,  he  handed  the  child  a  quarter. 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you,"  said  she,  hastily ;  "  mamma  gives 
me  money  whenever  I  need  it." 

The  experienced  operator  immediately  placed  the  frac- 
tional currency  where  it  might  not  tempt  the  child  to  change 
her  mind.  Then  he  studied  her  face  with  considerable  curi- 
osity, and  asked  : 

"  Do  you  live  here  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied;  "we're  only  spending  the  Summer 
here.  We  live  in  New  York." 

Mr.  Putchett  opened  his  eyes,  whistled,  and  remarked : 

"It's  very  funny." 

"  Why,  I  don't  think  so,"  said  the  child,  very  innocently. 
"  Lots  of  people  that  board  here  come  from  New  York. 
Don't  you  want  to  see  my  well  ?  I  dug  the  deepest  well  of 
anybody  to-day.  Just  come  and  see — it's  only  a  few  steps 
from  here." 

Mechanically,  as  one  struggling  with  a  problem  above 
his  comprehension,  the  financier  followed  the  child,  and 
gazed  into  a  hole,  perhaps  a  foot  and  a  half  deep,  on  the 
beach. 

"That's  my  well,"  said  she,  "and  that  one  next  it  is 
Frank's.  Nellie's  is  way  up  there.  I  guess  hers  would 
have  been  the  biggest,  but  a  wave  came  up  and  spoiled  it." 

Mr.  Putchett  looked  from  the  well  into  the  face  of  its 
little  digger,  and  was  suddenly  conscious  of  an  insane  desire 
to  drink  some  of  the  water.  He  took  the  child's  pail,  dipped 
some  water,  and  was  carrying  it  to  his  lips,  when  the  child 
spoiled  what  was  probably  the  first  sentimental  feeling  of 
Mr.  Putchett' s  life  by  hastily  exclaiming  : 


328  IMPROVING  HIS  WABDBOBE. 

"  You  mustn't  drink  that — it's  salty  !" 

The  sentimentalist  sorrowfully  put  the  bitter  draught 
away,  and  the  child  rattled  on : 

"  If  you're  down  here  to-morrow,  I'll  show  you  where 
we.  find  scallop-shells  ;  maybe  you  can  find  some  with  pink 
and  yellow  spots  on  them.  I've  got  some.  If  you  don't 
find  any,  I'll  give  you  one." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  her  companion. 

Just  then  some  one  shouted  "  Alice  !"  and  the  child  ex- 
claiming, "  Mamma's  calling  me ;  good-by,"  hurried  away, 
while  the  broker  walked  slowly  toward  the  hotel  with  an 
expression  of  countenance  which  would  have  hidden  him 
from  his  oldest  acquaintance. 

Mr.  Putchett  spent  the  evening  on  the  piazza  instead  of 
in  the  barroom,  and  he  neither  smoked  nor  drank.  Before 
retiring  he  contracted  with  the  colored  cook  to  shave  him 
in  the  morning,  and  to  black  his  boots ;  and  he  visited  the 
single  store  of  the  neighborhood  and  purchased  a  shirt,  some 
collars,  and  a  cravat. 

When  in  the  morning  he  was  duly  shaved,  dressed  and 
brushed,  he  critically  surveyed  himself  in  the  glass,  and 
seemed  quite  dissatisfied.  He  moved  from  the  glass, 
spread  a  newspaper  on  the  table,  and  put  into  it  the  con- 
tents of  his  capacious  pockets.  A  second  examination  before 
the  glass  seemed  more  satisfactory  in  result,  thus  indicating 
that  to  the  eye  of  Mr.  Putchett  his  well-stuffed  pockets  had 
been  unsightly  in  effect. 

The  paper  and  its  contents  he  gave  the  landlord  to 
deposit  in  the  hotel  safe  ;  then  he  ate  a  hurried,  scanty 
breakfast,  and  again  sought  the  bench  on  the  beach. 

No  one  was  in  sight,  for  it  was  scarcely  breakfast-time  at 
the  boarding-houses ;  so  he  looked  for  little  Alice's  well,  and 
mourned  to  find  that  the  tide  had  not  even  left  any  sign  of 
its  location. 

Then  he  seated  himself  on  the  bench  again,  contemplat- 
ing his  boots,  looked  up  the  road,  stared  out  to  sea,  and 
then  looked  up  the  road  again,  tried  to  decipher  some  of  the 


NOT  GIVING  HIMSELF  AWAY.  329 

names  carved  on  the  bench,  walked  backward  and  forward, 
looking  up  the  road  at  each  turn  he  made,  and  in  every  way 
indicated  the  unpleasant  effect  of  hope  deferred. 

Finally,  however,  after  two  hours  of  fruitless  search,  Mr. 
Putchett's  eyes  were  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  little  Alice 
approaching  the  beach  with  a  bathing-party.  He  at  first 
hurried  forward  to  meet  her,  but  he  was  restrained  by  a  senti- 
ment found  alike  in  curbstone-brokers  and  in  charming 
young  ladies — a  feeling  that  it  is  not  well  to  give  one's  self 
away  without  first  being  sufficiently  solicited  to  do  so. 

He  noticed,  with  a  mingled  pleasure  and  uneasiness,  that 
little  Alice  did  not  at  first  recognize  him,  so  greatly  had  his 
toilet  altered  his  general  appearance. 

Even  after  he  made  himself  known,  he  was  compelled  to 
submit  to  further  delay,  for  the  party  had  come  to  the 
beach  to  bathe,  and  little  Alice  must  bathe,  too. 

She  emerged  from  a  bathing-house  in  a  garb  very  odd  to 
the  eyes  of  Mr.  Putchett,  but  one  which  did  not  at  all 
change  that  gentleman's  opinion  of  the  wearer.  She  ran 
into  the  water,  was  thrown  down  by  the  surf,  she  was 
swallowed  by  some  big  waves  and  dived  through  others,  and 
all  the  while  the  veteran  operator  watched  her  with  a  solici- 
tude, which,  despite  his  anxiety  for  her  safety,  gave  him  a 
sensation  as  delightful  as  it  was  strange. 

The  bath  ended,  Alice  rejoined  Mr.  Putchett  and  con- 
ducted him  to  the  spot  where  the  wonderful  shells  with  pink 
and  yellow  spots  were  found.  The  new  shell-seeker  was 
disgusted  when  the  child  shouted  "Come  along!"  to  several 
other  children,  and  was  correspondingly  delighted  when  they 
said,  in  substance,  that  shells  were  not  so  attractive  as  once 
they  were. 

Mr.  Putchett's  researches  in  conchology  were  not  partic- 
ularly successful,  for  while  he  manfully  moved  about  in  the 
uncomfortable  and  ungraceful  position  peculiar  to  shell- 
seekers,  he  looked  rather  at  the  healthy,  honest,  eager  little 
face  near  him  than  at  the  beach  itself. 

Suddenly,   however,   Mr.   Putchett's   opinion   of  shells 


330  A  NICE   BOAEDING-HOUSE. 

underwent  a  radical  change,  for  the  child,  straightening  her- 
self and  taking  something  from  her  pocket,  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  dear,  somebody's  picked  up  all  the  pretty  ones.  I 
thought,may  be,  there  mightn't  be  any  here,  so  I  brought 
you  t>ne ;  just  see  what  pretty  pink  and  yellow  spots  there 
are  on  it." 

Mr.  Putchett  looked,  and  there  came  into  his  face  the 
first  flush  of  color  that  had  been  there — except  in  anger — 
for  years.  He  had  occasionally  received  presents  from 
business  acquaintances,  but  he  had  correctly  looked  at  them 
as  having  been  forwarded  as  investments,  so  they  awakened 
feelings  of  suspicion  rather  than  of  pleasure. 

But  at  little  Alice's  shell  he  looked  long  and  earnestly, 
and  when  he  put  it  into  his  pocket  he  looked  for  two  or 
three  moments  far  away,  and  yet  at  nothing  in  particular. 

"Do  you  have  a  nice  boarding-house?"  asked  Alice,  as 
they  sauntered  along  the  beach,  stopping  occasionally  to 
pick  up  pebbles  and  to  dig  wells. 

"  Not  very,"  said  Mr.  Putchett,  the  sanded  barroom  and 
his  own  rather  dismal  chamber  coming  to  his  mind. 

"  You  ought  to  board  where  we  do,"  said  Alice,  en- 
thusiastically. "We  have  heaps  of  fun.  Have  you  got  a 
barn?" 

Mr.  Putchett  confessed  that  he  did  not  know. 

"Oh,  we've  got  a  splendid  one!"  exclaimed  the  child. 
"  There's  stalls,  and  a  granary,  and  a  carriage-house  and  two 
lofts  in  it.  We  put  out  hay  to  the  horses,  and  they  eat  it 
right  out  of  our  hands — aren't  afraid  a  bit.  Then  we  get 
into  the  granary,  and  bury  ourselves  all  up  in  the  oats,  so 
only  our  heads  stick  out.  The  lofts  are  just  lovely :  one's 
full  of  hay  and  the  other's  full  of  wheat,  and  we  chew  the 
wheat,  and  make  gum  of  it.  The  hay-stalks  are  real  nice 
and  sweet  to  chew,  too.  They  only  cut  the  hay  last  week, 
and  we  all  rode  in  on*  the  wagon — one,  two,  three,  four — 
seven  of  us.  Then  we've  got  two  croquet  sets,  and  the  boys 
make  Us  whistles  and  squalks." 

"  Squalks  ?"  interrogated  the  broker. 


MB.  PUTCHETT  BETAKES   HIMSELF  TO   THE  BARN.          331 

"  Yes ;  they're  split  quills,  and  you  blow  in  them.  They 
don't  make  very  pretty  music,  but  it's  ever  so  funuy.  We've 
got  two  big  swings  and  a  hammock,  too." 

t(  Is  the  house  very  full  ?"  asked  Mr.  Putchett. 

"  Not  so  very,"  replied  the  child.  "  If  you  come  there  to 
board,  I'll  make  Frank  teach  you  how  to  make  whistles." 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Putchett  took  the  train  for  New 
York,  from  which  city  he  returned  the  next  morning  with 
quite  a  well-filled  trunk.  It  was  afterward  stated  by  a 
person  who  had  closely  observed  the  capitalist's  movements 
during  his  trip,  that  he  had  gone  into  a  first-class  clothier's 
and  demanded  suits  of  the  best  material  and  latest  cut,  re- 
gardless of  cost,  and  that  he  had  pursued  the  same  singular 
coarse  at  a  gent's  furnishing  store,  and  a  fashionable 
jeweler's. 

Certain  it  is  that  on  the  morning  of  Mr.  Putchett's  return 
a  gentleman  very  well  dressed,  though  seemingly  ill  at  ease 
in  his  clothing,  called  at  Mrs.  Brown's  boarding-house,  and 
engaged  a  room,  and  that  the  younger  ladies  pronounced 
him  very  stylish  and  the  older  ones  thought  him  very  odd. 
But  as  he  never  intruded,  spoke  only  when  spoken  to,  and 
devoted  himself  earnestly  and  entirely  to  the  task  of  amus- 
ing the  children,  the  boarders  all  admitted  that  he  was  very 
good-hearted. 

Among  Alice's  numerous  confidences,  during  her  second 
stroll  with  Mr.  Putchett,  was  information  as  to  the  date 
of  her  seventh  birthday,  now  very  near  at  hand.  When 
the  day  arrived,  her  adorer  arose  unusually  early,  and 
spent  an  impatient  hour  or  two  awaiting  Alice's  appearance. 
As  she  bade  him  good-morning,  he  threw  about  her  neck  a 
chain,  to  which  was  attached  an  exquisite  little  watch  ;  then, 
while  the  delighted  child  was  astonishing  her  parents  and 
the  other  boarders,  Mr.  Putchett  betook  himself  to  the  barn 
in  a  state  of  abject  sheepishness.  He  did  not  appear  again 
until  summoned  by  the  breakfast-bell,  and  even  then  he  sat 
with  a  very  red  face,  and  with  eyes  directed  at  his  plate 
only.  The  child's  mother  remonstrated  against  so  much 


332  A  FAVORITE  AT  THE  BOARDING-HOUSE. 

money  being  squandered  on  a  child,  and  attempted  to  re- 
turn the  watch,  but  he  seemed  so  distressed  at  the  idea 
that  the  lady  dropped  the  subject. 

For  a  fortnight,  Mr.  Putchett  remained  at  the  boarding- 
house,  and  grew  daily  in  the  estimation  of  every  one.  From 
being  thought  queer  and  strange,  he  gradually  gained  the 
reputation  of  being  the  best-hearted,  most  guileless,  most 
considerate  man  alive.  He  was  the  faithful  squire  of  all  the 
ladies,  both  young  and  old,  and  was  adored  by  all  the 
children.  His  conversational  powers — except  on  matters  of 
business — were  not  great,  but  his  very  ignorance  on  all 
general  topics,  and  the  humility  born  of  that  ignorance, 
gave  to  his  manners  a  deference  which  was  more  gratifying 
to  most  ladies  than  brilliant  loquacity  would  have  been.  He 
even  helped  little  Alice  to  study  a  Sunday-school  lesson, 
and  the  experience  was  so  entirely  new  to  him,  that  he  be- 
came more  deeply  interested  than  the  little  learner  herself. 
He  went  to  church  on  Sunday,  and  was  probably  the  most 
attentive  listener  the  rather  prosy  old  pastor  had. 

Of  course  he  bathed — everybody  did.  A  stout  rope  was 
stretched  from  a  post  on  the  shore  to  a  buoy  in  deep  water 
where  it  was  anchored,  and  back  and  forth  on  this  rope 
capered  every  day  twenty  or  thirty  hideously  dressed  but 
very  happy  people,  among  whom  might  always  be  seen  Mr. 
Putchett  with  a  child  on  his  shoulder. 

One  day  the  waves  seemed  to  viciously  break  near  the 
shore,  and  the  bathers  all  followed  the  rope  out  to  where 
there  were  swells  instead  of  breakers.  Mr.  Putchett  was 
there,  of  course,  with  little  Alice.  He  seemed  perfectly 
enamored  of  the  water,  and  delighted  in  venturing  as  far  to 
the  sea  as  the  rope  would  allow,  and  there  ride  on  the  swells, 
and  go  through  all  other  ridiculously  happy  antics  peculiar 
to  ocean-lovers  who  cannot  swim. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Putchett's  hand  seemed  to  receive  a  shock, 
and  he  felt  himself  sinking  lower  than  usual,  while  above 
the  noise  of  the  surf  and  the  confusion  of  voices  he  heard 
some  one  roar : 


334 


"  GOOD-BY,  LITTLE   ANGEL."  335 

"  The  rope  has  broken — scramble  ashore  !" 

The  startled  man  pulled  frantically  at  the  piece  of  rope 
in  his  hand,  but  found  to  his  horror  that  it  offered  no  assist- 
ance ;  it  was  evident  that  the  break  was  between  him  and 
the  shore.  He  kicked  and  paddled  rapidly,  but  seemed  to 
make  no  headway,  and  while  Alice,  realizing  the  danger, 
commenced  to  cry  piteously,  Mr.  Putchett  plainly  saw  on 
the  shore  the  child's  mother  in  an  apparent  frenzy  of  ex- 
citement and  terror. 

The  few  men  present — mostly  boarding-house  keepers 
and  also  ex-sailors  and  fishermen — hastened  with  a  piece  of 
the  broken  rope  to  drag  down  a  fishing-boat  which  lay  on 
the  sand  beyond  reach  of  the  tide.  Meanwhile  a  boy  found 
a  fishing-line,  to  the  end  of  which  a  stone  was  fastened  and 
thrown  toward  the  imperiled  couple. 

Mr.  Putchett  snatched  at  the  line  and  caught  it,  and  in 
an  instant  half  a  dozen  women  pulled  upon  it,  only  to  have  it 
break  almost  inside  Mr.  Putchett's  hands.  Again  it  was 
thrown,  and  again  the  frightened  broker  caught  it.  This 
time  he  wound  it  about  Alice's  arm,  put  the  end  into  her 
hand,  kissed  her  forehead,  said,  "  Good-by,  little  angel,  God 
bless  you,"  and  threw  up  his  hand  as  a  signal  that  the  line 
should  be  drawn  in.  In  less  than  a  minute  little  Alice  was 
in  her  mother's  arms,  but  when  the  line  was  ready  to  be 
thrown  again,  Mr.  Putchett  was  not  visible. 

By  this  time  the  boat  was  at  the  water's  edge,  and  four 
men — two  of  whom  were  familiar  with  rowing — sat  at  the 
oars,  while  two  of  the  old  fishermen  stood  by  to  launch  the 
boat  at  the  proper  instant.  Suddenly  they  shot  it  into 
the  water,  but  the  clumsy  dip  of  an  oar  turned  it  broadside 
to  the  wave,  and  in  an  instant  it  was  thrown,  waterlogged, 
upon  the  beach.  Several  precious  moments  were  spent  in 
righting  the  boat  and  bailing  out  the  water,  after  which  the 
boat  was  safely  launched,  the  fishermen  sprang  to  the  oars, 
and  in  a  moment  or  two  were  abreast  the  buoy. 

Mr.  Putchett  was  not  to  be  seen — even  had  he  reached 
the  buoy  it  could  not  have  supported  him,  for  it  was  but  a 


336  WHY  HE  WAS  WANTED. 

small  stick  of  wood.  One  of  the  boarders — lie  who  had 
swamped  the  boat — dived  several  times,  and  finally  there 
came  to  the  surface  a  confused  mass  of  humanity  which 
separated  into  the  forms  of  the  diver  and  the  broker. 

A  few  strokes  of  the  oars  beached  the  boat,  and  old 
"  Captain  "  Bedding,  who  had  spent  his  Winters  at  a  gov- 
ernment life-saving  station,  picked  up  Mr.  Putchett,  carried 
him  up  to  the  dry  sand,  laid  him  face  downward,  raised  his 
head  a  little,  and  shouted  : 

"  Somebody  stand  between  him  and  the  sun  so's  to 
shade  his  head !  Slap  his  hands,  one  man  to  each  hand. 
Scrape  up  some  of  that  hot,  dry  sand,  and  pile  it  on  his  feet 
and  legs.  Everybody  else  stand  off  and  give  him  air." 

The  captain's  orders  were  promptly  obeyed,  and  there 
the  women  and  children,  some  of  them  weeping,  and  all  of 
them  pale  and  silent,  stood  in  a  group  in  front  of  the  bath- 
ing-house and  looked  up. 

"  Somebody  run  to  the  hotel  for  brandy,"  shouted  the 
captain. 

"Here's  brandy,"  said  a  strange  voice,  "and  I've  got  a 
hundred  dollars  for  you  if  you  bring  him  to  life." 

Every  one  looked  at  the  speaker,  and  seemed  rather  to 
dislike  what  they  saw.  He  was  a  smart-looking  man,  but 
his  face  seemed  very  cold  and  forbidding ;  he  stood  apart, 
with  arms  folded,  and  seemed  regardless  of  the  looks 
fastened  upon  him.  Finally  Mrs.  Blough,  one  of  the  most 
successful  and  irrepressible  gossips  in  the  neighborhood, 
approached  him  and  asked  him  if  he  was  a  relative  of  Mr. 
Putchett's. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  replied  the  man,  with  unmoved  counten- 
ance. "I'm  an  officer  with  a  warrant  for  his  arrest,  on 
suspicion  of  receiving  stolen  goods.  I've  searched  his  traps 
at  the  hotel  and  boarding-house  this  morning,  but  can't 
find  what  I'm  looking  for.  It's  been  traced  to  him,  though 
— has  he  shown  any  of  you  ladies  a  large  diamond  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Blough,  quite  tartly,  "  and  none  of  us 
would  have  believed  it  of  him,  either.' 


THE   STRING  ABOUND   HIS   NECK.  337 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  the  officer,  his  face  softening  a 
little.  "  I've  seen  plenty  of  such  cases  before,  though.  Be- 
sides, it  isn't  my  first  call  on  Putchett — not  by  several." 

Mrs.  Blough  walked  indignantly  away,  but,  true  to  her 
nature,  she  quickly  repeated  her  news  to  her  neighbors. 

"  He's  coming  to !"  shouted  the  captain,  turning  Mr. 
Putchett  on  his  back  and  attempting  to  provoke  respira- 
tion. The  officer  was  by  his  side  in  a  moment.  Mr. 
Putchett's  eyes  had  closed  naturally,  the  captain  said,  and 
his  lips  had  moved.  Suddenly  the  stranger  laid  a  hand  on 
the  collar  of  the  insensible  man,  and  disclosed  a  cord  about 
his  neck. 

"  Captain,"  said  the  officer,  in  a  voice  very  low,  but 
hurried  and  trembling  with  excitement,  "  Putchett's  had  a 
very  narrow  escape,  and  I  hate  to  trouble  him,  but  I  must 
do  my  duty.  There's  been  a  five  thousand  dollar  diamond 
traced  to  him.  He  advanced  money  on  it,  knowing  it  was 
stolen.  I've  searched  his  property  and  can't  find  it,  but  I'll 
bet  a  thousand  it's  on  that  string  around  his  neck — that's 
Putchett  all  over.  Now,  you  let  me  take  it,  and  I'll  let  him 
alone  ;  nobody  else  need  know  what's  happened.  He  seems 
to  have  behaved  himself  here,  judging  by  the  good  opinion 
folks  have  of  him,  and  he  deserves  to  have  a  chance  which 
he  won't  get  if  I  take  him  to  jail." 

The  women  had  comprehended,  from  the  look  of  the 
stranger  and  the  captain,  that  something  unusual  was  going 
on,  and  they  had  crowded  nearer  and  nearer,  until  they 
heard  the  officer's  last  words. 

"  You're  a  dreadful,  hateful  man !"  exclaimed  little 
Alice. 

The  officer  winced. 

"  Hush,  daughter,"  said  Alice's  mother ;  then  she  said : 
"  Let  him  take  it,  captain  ;  it's  too  awful  to  think  of  a  man's 
going  right  to  prison  from  the  gates  of  death." 

The  officer  did  not  wait  for  further  permission,  but 
hastily  opened  the  bathing-dress  of  the  still  insensible 
figure. 

22 


"338  WHAT  WAS  FASTENED  TO  THE  STRING. 

Suddenly  the  officer  started  back  with  an  oath,  and  the 
people  saw,  fastened  to  a  string  and  lying  over  Mr.  Put- 
chett's  heart,  a  small  scallop-shell,  variegated  with  pink 
and  yellow  spots. 

"  It's  one  I  gave  him  when  I  first  came  here,  because  he 
wouldn't  find  any,"  sobbed  little  Alice. 

The  officer,  seeming  suddenly  to  imagine  that  the  gem 
might  be  secreted  in  the  hollow  of  the  shell,  snatched  at  it 
-and  turned  it  over.  Mr.  Putchett's  arm  suddenly  moved ; 
his  hand  grasped  the  shell  and  carried  it  toward  his  lips ; 
3iis  eyes  opened  for  a  moment  and  fell  upon  the  officer,  at 
the  sight  of  whom  Mr.  Putchett  shivered  and  closed  his 
eyes  again. 

"That  chill's  a  bad  sign,"  muttered  the  captain. 

Mr.  Putchett's  eyes  opened  once  more,  and  sought  little 
Alice  ;  his  face  broke  into  a  faint  smile,  and  she  stooped 
and  kissed  him.  The  smile  on  his  face  grew  brighter  for 
an  instant,  then  he  closed  his  eyes  and  quietly  carried  the 
case  up  to  a  Court  of  Final  Appeals,  before  which  the 
officer  showed  no  desire  to  give  evidence. 

Mr.  Putchett  was  buried  the  next  day,  and  most  of  the 
people  in  the  neighborhood  were  invited  to  the  funeral. 
The  story  went  rapidly  about  the  neighborhood,  and  in 
consequence  there  were  present  at  the  funeral  a  number  of 
uninvited  persons  :  among  these  were  the  cook,  bar-keeper 
.and  hostler  of  the  hotel,  who  stood  uncomfortably  a  little 
way  from  the  house  until  the  procession  started,  when  they 
followed  at  a  respectful  distance  in  the  rear. 

When  the  grave  was  reached,  those  who  dug  it — who 
were  also  of  those  who  carried  the  bier — were  surprised  to 
'find  the  bottom  of  the  coffin-box  strewn  and  hidden  with 
wild  flowers  and  scraps  of  evergreen. 

The  service  of  the  Church  of  England  was  read,  and  as 
the  words,  "  Ashes  to  ashes ;  dust  to  dust,"  were  repeated, 
-a  bouquet  of  wild  flowers  was  tossed  over  the  heads  of  the 
mourners  and  into  the  grave.  Mrs.  Blough,  though  deeply 
-affected  by  the  services,  looked  quickly  back  to  see  who 


THE   BUSH   OF   WHITE   HOSES. 


339 


was  the  giver,  and  saw  the  officer  (who  had  not  been  seen 
before  that  day)  with  such  an  embarrassed  countenance  as 
to  leave  no  room  for  doubt.  He  left  before  daylight  next 
morning,  to  catch  a  very  early  train  :  but  persons  passing 
the  old  graveyard  that  day  beheld  on  Putchett's  grave  a 
handsome  bush  of  white  roses,  which  bush  old  Mrs.  Gale, 
living  near  the  hotel,  declared  was  a  darling  pot-plant  which 
had  been  purchased  of  her  on  the  previous  evening  by  an 
ill-favored  man  who  declared  he  -must  have  it,  no  matter  how 
much  he  paid  for  it. 


THE  MEANEST  MAN  AT  BLUGSEY'S. 

fT\0  MINEBS,  whose  gold-fever  had  not  reached  a  ridicu- 
J_  lous  degree  of  heat,  Blugsey's  was  certainly  a  very  satis- 
factory location.  The  dirt  was  rich,  the  river  ran  dry,  there 
was  plenty  of  standing-room  on  the  banks,  which  were 
devoid  of  rocks,  the  storekeeper  dealt  strictly  on  the  square, 
and  the  saloon  contained  a  pleasing  variety  of  consolatory 
fluids,  which  were  dispensed  by  Stumpy  Flukes,  ex-sailor, 
and  as  hearty  a  fellow  as  any  one  would  ask  to  see. 

All  thieves  and  claim-jumpers  had  been  shot  as  fast  as 
discovered,  and  the  men  who  remained  had  taken  each 
other's  measures  with  such  accuracy,  that  genuine  fights 
were  about  as  unfrequent  as  prayer-meetings. 

The  miners  dug  and  washed,  ate,  drank,  swore  and 
gambled  with  that  delightful  freedom  which  exists  only  in 
localities  where  society  is  established  on  a  firm  and  well- 
settled  basis. 

Such  being  the  condition  of  affairs  at  Blugsey's,  it 
seemed  rather  strange  one  morning,  hours  after  breakfast, 
to  see,  sprinkled  in  every  direction,  a  great  number  of  idle 
picks,  shovels  and  pans ;  in  fact,  the  only  mining  imple- 
ments in  use  that  morning  were  those  handled  by  a  single 
miner,  who  was  digging  and  carrying  and  washing  dirt  with 
an  industry  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  was  working 
as  a  substitute  for  each  and  every  man  in  the  camp. 

He  was  anything  but  a  type  of  gold-hunters  in  general ; 
lie  was  short  and  thin,  and  slight  and  stooping,  and  greatly 

340 


341 

round-shouldered ;  his  eyes  were  of  a  painfully  uncertain 
gray,  and  one  of  them  displayed  a  cast  which  was  his  only 
striking  feature;  his  .nose  had  started  as  a  very  retiring 
nose,  but  had  changed  its  mind  half-way  down  ;  his  lips 
were  thin,  and  seemed  to  yearn  for  a  close  acquaintance 
with  his  large  ears  ;  his  face  was  sallow  and  thin,  and 
thickly  seamed,  arid  his  chin  appeared  to  be  only  one  of 
Nature's  hasty  afterthoughts.  Long,  thin  gray  hair  hung 
about  his  face,  and  imparted  the  only  relief  to  the  monoto- 
nous dinginess  of  his  features  and  clothing. 

Such  being  the  appearance  of  the  man,  it  was  scarcely 
natural  to  expect  that  miners  in  general  would  regard  him 
as  a  special  ornament  to  the  profession. 

In  fact,  he  had  been  dubbed  "  Old  Scrabblegrab  "  on  the 
second  day  of  his  occupancy  of  Claim  No.  32,  and  such  of 
his  neighbors  as  possessed  the  gift  of  tongues  had,  after 
more  intimate  acquaintance  with  him,  expressed  themselves 
doubtful  of  the  ability  of  language  to  properly  embody 
Scrabblegrab' s  character  in  a  single  name. 

The  principal  trouble  was,  that  they  were  unable  to 
make  anything  at  all  of  his  character ;  there  was  nothing 
about  him  which  they  could  understand,  so  they  first  sus- 
pected him,  and  then  hated  him  violently,  after  the  usual 
manner  of  society  toward  the  incomprehensible. 

And  on  the  particular  morning  which  saw  Scrabblegrab 
the  only  worker  at  Blugsey's,  the  remaining  miners  were 
assembled  in  solemn  conclave  at  Stumpy  Fluke's  saloon,  to 
determine  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  detested  man. 

The  scene  was  certainly  an  impressive  one ;  for  such 
quiet  had  not  been  known  at  the  saloon  since  the  few  mo- 
ments which  intervened  between  the  time,  weeks  before, 
when  Broadhorn  Jerry  gave  the  lie  to  Captain  Greed,  and 
the  captain,  whose  pistol  happened  to  be  unloaded,  was 
ready  to  proceed  to  business. 

The  average  miner,  when  sober,  possesses  a  degree  of 
composure  and  gravity  which  would  be  admirable  even  in  a 
judge  of  ripe  experience,  and  miners,  assembled  as  a  delib- 


342  THE  BOTTOM  OUT  OF  THE  PAN. 

erative  body,  can  display  a  dignity  which  would  drive  a 
venerable  Senator  or  a  British  M.  P.  to  the  uttermost  ex- 
treme of  envy. 

On  the  occasion  mentioned  above,  the  miners  ranged 
themselves  near  the  unoccupied  walls,  and  leaned  at  vari- 
ous graceful  and  awkward  angles.  Boston  Ben,  who  was  by 
natural  right  the  ruler  of  the  camp,  took  the  chair — that  is, 
he  leaned  against  the  centre  of  the  bar.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  bar  leaned  Stumpy  Flukes,  displaying  that  degree  of 
conscious  importance  which  was  only  becoming  to  a  man 
who,  by  virtue  of  his  position,  was  sole  and  perpetual  sec- 
retary and  recorder  to  all  stated  meetings  at  Blugsey's. 

Boston  Ben  glanced  around  the  room,  and  then  collec- 
tively announced  the  presence  of  a  quorum,  the  formal  or- 
ganization of  the  meeting,  and  its  readiness  for  deliberation, 
by  quietly  remarking  : 

"Blaze  away!" 

Immediately  one  of  the  leaners  regained  the  perpendic- 
ular, departed  a  paca  from  the  wall,  rolled  his  tobacco  neatly 
into  one  cheek,  and  remarked  : 

"We've  stood  it  long  enough — the  bottom's  clean  out  of 
the  pan,  Mr.  Chairman.  Scrabblegrab's  declined  bitters 
from  half  the  fellers  in  camp,  an'  though  his  gray  old  top- 
knot's kept  'em  from  takin'  satisfaction  in  the  usual  manner, 
they  don't  feel  no  better  'bout  it  than  they  did." 

The  speaker  subsided  into  his  section  of  wall,  composed 
himself  into  his  own  especial  angles,  and  looked  like  a  man 
who  had  fully  discharged  a  conscientious  duty. 

From  the  opposite  wall  there  appeared  another  speaker, 
who  indignantly  remarked : 

"Goin'  back  on  bitters  ain't  a  toothful  to  what  he's  done. 
There's  young  Curly,  that  went  last  week.  That  boy  played 
his  hand  in  a  style  that  would  take  the  conceit  clean  out  uv 
an  angel  But  all  to  onct  Curly  took  to  lookin'  flaxed,  an' 
the  judge  here  overheard  Scrabblegrab  askin'  Curly  what 
he  thort  his  mother'd  say  ef  she  knew  he  was  makin'  his 
money  that  way  ?  The  boy  took  on  wuss  an'  wuss,  an'  now 


LACKING  THE  TASTES  OF  A  GENTLEMAN. 

he's  vamosed.     Don't  b'lieye  me  ef  yer  don't  want  ter,  fel- 
lers— here's  the  judge  hisself." 

The  judge  briskly  advanced  his  spectacles,  which  had 
gained  him  his  title,  and  said  : 

"  True  ez  gospel ;  and  when  I  asked  him  ef  he  wasn't 
ashamed  of  himself  fur  takin'  away  the  boy's  comfort,  he 
said  No,  an'  that  I  d  be  a  more  decent  man  ef  I'd  give  up 
keards  myself." 

"  He's  alive  yit !"  said  the  first  speaker,  in  a  tone  half  of" 
inquiry  and  half  of  reproof. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  the  judge,  hastening  to  explain.  "  I'd 
lent  my  pepperbox  to  Mose  when  he  went  to  'Frisco,  an'  the 
old  man's  too  little  fur  a  man  uv  my  size  to  hit." 

The  judge  looked  anxiously  about  until  he  felt  assured 
his  explanation  had  been  generally  accepted.  Then  he  con- 
tinued : 

"  What's  he  good  fur,  anyhow  ?  He  can't  sing  a  songr 
except  somethin'  about  '  Tejus  an'  tasteless  hours,'  that  no- 
body ever  heard  before,  an'  don't  want  to  agin ;  he  don't 
drink,  he  don't  play  keards,  he  don't  even  cuss  when  he 
tumbles  into  the  river.  Ev'ry  man's  got  his  p'ints,  an'  ef 
he  hain't  got  no  good  uns,  he's  sure  to  have  bad  uns.  Ef 
he'd  only  show  'em  out,  there  might  be  somethin'  honest 
about  it ;  but  when  a  feller  jist  eats  an'  sleeps  an'  works, 
an'  never  shows  any  uv  the  tastes  uv  a  gentleman,  ther's- 
somethin'  wrong." 

"  I  don't  wish  him  any  harm,"  said  a  tall,  good-natured 
fellow,  who  succeeded  the  judge  ;  "  but  the  feller's  looks  is 
agin  the  reputation  uv  the  place.  In  a  camp  like  this  here 
one,  whar  society's  first-class — no  greasers  nur  pigtails  nur~ 
loafers — it  ain't  the  thing  to  hev  anybody  around  that 
looks  like  a  corkscrew  that's  been  fed  on  green  apples  and 
watered  with  vinegar — it's  discouragin'  to  gentlemen  that 
might  hev  a  notion  of  stakin'  a  claim,  fur  the  sake  uv  en- 
joyin'  our  social  advantages." 

"N-none  uv  yer  hev  got  to  the  wust  uv  it  yit,"  remarked 
another.  "  The  old  cuss  is  too  fond  uv  his  dust.  Billy 


344  THE   AKBAIGNMENT. 

Banks  seen  him  a-buyin'  pork  up  to  the  store,  an*  he  handled 
his  pouch  ez  ef  'twas  eggs  instid  of  gold  dust — poured  it 
out  as  keerful  ez  yer  please,  an'  even  scraped  up  a  little  bit 
he  spilt.  Now,  when  I  wuz  a  little  rat,  an'  went  to  Sunday- 
school,  they  used  to  keep  a-waggin'  at  me  'bout  evil  com- 
munication a-corruptin'  o'  good  manners.  That's  what  he'll 
do — fust  thing  yer  know,  other  fellers'll  begin  to  be  stingy, 
an'  think  gold  dust  wuz  made  to  save  instid  uv  to  buy  drinks 
an'  play  keards  fur.  That's  what  it'll  come  to." 

"Beggin'  ev'rybody's  pardon,"  interposed  a  deserter 
from  the  army,  "but  these  here  perceedin's  is  irreg'lar. 
'Tai'nt  the  square  thing  to  take  evidence  till  the  pris'ner's  in 
court." 

Boston  Ben  immediately  detailed  a  special  officer  to 
summon  Old  Scrabblegrab,  declared  a  recess  of  five  min- 
utes, and  invited  the  boys  to  drink  with  him. 

Those  who  took  sugar  in  theirs  had  the  cup  dashed  from 
their  lips  just  as  they  were  draining  the  delicious  dregs,  for 
the  officer  and  culprit  appeared,  and  the  chairman  rapped 
the  assembly  to  order. 

Boston  Ben  had  been  an  interested  attendant  at  certain 
law-courts  in  the  States,  so  in  the  calm  consciousness  of  his 
acquaintance  with  legal  procedure  he  rapidly  arraigned 
Scrabblegrab. 

"Scrabblegrab,  you're  complained  uv  for  goin'  back  on 
bitters,  coaxin'  Curly  to  give  up  keards,  thus  spoilin'  his 
fun,  an'  knockin'  appreciatin'  observers  out  of  their  amuse- 
ment ;  uv  insultin'  the  judge,  uv  not  cussin'  when  you  stum- 
ble into  the  river,  uv  not  havin'  any  good  p'ints,  an'  not 
showin'  yer  bad  ones ;  uv  bein'  a  set-back  on  the  tone  uv 
the  place — lookin'  like  a  green-apple-fed,  vinegar-watered 
corkscrew,  or  words  to  that  effect ;  an',  finally,  in  savin'  yer 
money.  What  hev  you  got  to  say  agin'  sentence  bein'  passed 
on  yer?" 

The  old  man  flushed  as  the  chairman  proceeded,  and 
when  the  indictment  reached  its  end,  he  replied,  in  a  tone 
which  indicated  anything  but  respect  for  the  court : 


346 


VERMONT  BONE  AND  MUSCLE.  347 

"I've  got  just  this  to  say,  that  I  paid  my  way  here,  I've 
asked  no  odds  of  any  man  sence  I've  ben  here,  an'  that 
anybody  that  takes  pains  to  meddle  with  my  affairs  is  an 
impudent  scoundrel !" 

Saying  which,  the  old  man  turned  to  go,  while  the  court 
was  paralyzed  into  silence. 

But  Tom  Dosser,  a  new  arrival,  and  a  famous  shot,  now 
stepped  in  front  of  the  old  man. 

"  I  ax  yer  parding,"  said  Tom,  in  the  blandest  of  tones, 
"  but,  uv  course,  yer  didn't  mean  me  when  yer  mentioned 
impudent  scoundrels  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  did — I  meant  you,  and  ev'rybody  like  yer,"  re- 
plied the  old  man. 

Tom's  hand  moved  toward  his  pistol.  The  chairman 
expeditiously  got  out  of  range.  Stumpy  Flukes  promptly 
retired  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  bar,  and  groaned  audibly. 

The  old  man  was  in  the  wrong ;  but,  then,  wasn't  it  too 
mean,  when  blood  was  so  hard  to  get  out,  that  these  diffi- 
culties always  took  place  just  after  he'd  got  the  floor  clean  ? 

"  I  don't  generally  shoot  till  the  other  feller  draws,"  ex- 
plained Tom  Dosser,  while  each  man  in  the  room  wept  with 
emotion  as  they  realized  they  had  lived  to  see  Tom's  skill 
displayed  before  their  very  eyes — "  I  don't  generally  shoot 
till  the  other  feller  draws  ;  but  you'd  better  be  spry.  I 
usually  make  a  little  allowance  for  age,  but " 

Tom's  further  explanations  were  indefinitely  delayed  by 
an  abnormal  contraction  of  his  trachea,  the  same  being 
induced  by  the  old  man's  right  hand,  while  his  left  seized 
the  unhappy  Thomas  by  his  waist-belt,  and  a  second  later 
the  dead  shot  of  Blugsey's  was  tossed  into  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  somewhat  as  a  sheaf  of  oats  is  tossed  by  a  practiced 
hand. 

"  Anybody  else  ?"  inquired  the  old  man.  "  111  back  Ver- 
mont bone  an'  muscle  agin'  the  hull  passel  of  ye,  even  if  I  be 
a  deacon.  '  The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round  about 
them  that  fear  him.' ' 

"  The   angel  needn't  hurry  hisself,"  said  Tom  Dosser 

* 


348  WHY  THE  DEACON  WAS  THEKE. 

picking  himself  up,  one  joint  at  a  time.  "Ef  that's  the 
crowd  yer  travelin'  with,  and  they've  got  a  grip  anything 
like  yourn,  I  don't  want  nothin'  to  do  with  'em." 

Boston  Ben  looked  excited,  and  roared  : 
/  "This  court's  adjourned  sine  die." 

Then  he  rushed  up  to  the  newly  announced  deacon, 
caught  him  firmly  by  the  right  hand,  slapped  him  heartily 
between  the  shoulders,  and  inquired,  rather  indignantly ; 

"  Say,  old  Angelchum,  why  didn't  you  ever  let  folks  know 
yer  style,  instead  uv  trottin'  'round  like  a  melancholy  clam 
with  his  shells  shut  up  tight?  That's  what  this  crowd 
wants  to  know  !  Now  yev  opened  down  to  bed-rock,  we'll 
git  English  Sam  from  Sonora,  an'  git  up  the  tallest  kind  uv 
a  rasslin'  match." 

"Not  unless  English  Sam  meddles  with  my  business, 
you  won't,"  replied  the  deacon,  quickly.  "  I've  got  enough 
to  do  fightin'  speretual  foes." 

"  Oh,"  said  Boston  Ben,  "  we'll  manage  it  so  the  church 
folks  needn't  think  'twas  a  set-up  job.  We'll  put  Sam  up  to 
botherin'  yer,  and  yer  can  tackle  him  at  sight.  Then " 

"Excuse  me,  Boston,"  interrupted  Tom  Dosser,  "but 
yer  don't  hit  the  mark.  I'm  from  Vermont  myself,  an'  dea- 
cons there  don't  fight  for  the  fun  of  it,  whatever  they  may 
do  in  the  village  you  hail  from."  Then,  turning  to  the  old 
man,  Tom  asked  :  "  What  part  uv  the  old  State  be  ye  from, 
deacon,  an'  what  fetched  ye  out  ?" 

"  From  nigh  Rutland,"  replied  the  deacon,  "  I  hed  a  nice 
little  place  thar,  an'  wuz  doin'  well.  But  the  young  one's 
eyes  is  bad.  None  uv  the  doctors  thereabouts  could  do 
anythin'  fur  'em.  Took  her  to  Boston ;  nobody  thar  could 
do  anythin' — said  some  of  the  European  doctors  were  the 
only  ones  that  could  do  the  job  safely.  Costs  money  goin* 
to  Europe  an'  payin'  doctors — I  couldn't  make  it  to  hum  in 
twenty  year  ;  so  I  come  here." 

"  Only  child  ?"  inquired  Tom  Dosser,  while  the  boys 
crowded  about  the  two  Vermonters,  and  got  up  a  low  buzz 
of  sympathetic  conversation. 


"GOOD  FOR  THE  GAL."  349 

The  old  man  heard  it  all,  and  to  his  lonesome  and  home- 
sick soul  it  was  so  sweet  and  comforting,  that  it  melted  his 
natural  reserve,  and  made  him  anxious  to  unbosom  himself 
to  some  one.  So  he  answered  Tom  : 

"  Only  child  of  my  only  darter." 

"Father  dead?"  inquired  Tom  Dosser. 

"  Better  be,"  replied  the  deacon,  bitterly.  "  He  left  her 
soon  after  they  were  married." 

"Mean  skunk!"  said  Tom,  sympathetically. 

"I  want  to  judge  as  I'd  be  judged,"  replied  the  deacon; 
"  but  I  feel  ez  ef  I  couldn't  call  that  man  bad  enough  names. 
Hesby  was  ez  good  a  gal  ez  ever  lived,  but  she  went  to  visit 
some  uv  our  folks  at  Burlington,  an'  fust  thing  I  know'd  she 
writ  me  she'd  met  this  chap,  and  they'd  been  married,  an* 
wanted  us  to  forgive  her ;  but  he  was  so  good,  an'  she  loved 
him  so  dearly." 

"  Good  for  the  gal,"  said  Tom,  and  a  murmur  of  appro- 
bation ran  through  the  crowd. 

"  Of  course,  we  forgave  her.  We'd  hev  done  it  ef  she 
married  Satan  himself,"  continued  the  deacon.  "But  we 
begged  her  to  bring  her  husband  up  home,  an'  let  us  look 
at  him.  Whatever  was  good  enough  for  Jier  to  love  was  good 
enough  for  us,  and  we  meant  to  try  to  love  Hesby's  hus- 
band." 

"Done  yer  credit,  deacon,  too,"  declared  Tom,  and  again 
the  crowd  uttered  a  confirmatory  murmur.  "  Ef  some 
folks — deacons,  too — wuz  ez  good — But  go  ahead,  deac'n." 

"  Next  thing  we  heard  from  her,  he  had  gone  to  the  place 
he  was  raised  in ;  but  a  friend  of  his,  who  went  with  him, 
came  back,  an'  let  out  he'd  got  tight,  an'  been  arrested.  She 
writ  him  right  off,  beggin'  him  to  come  home,  and  go  with 
her  up  to  our  place,  where  he  could  be  out  of  temptation 
an'  where  she'd  love  him  dearer  than  ever." 

"  Pure  gold,  by  thunder !"  ejaculated  Tom,  while  a  low 
"You  bet,"  was  heard  all  over  the  room. 

Tom's  eyes  were  in  such  a  condition  that  he  thought  the 
deacon's  were  misty,  and  the  deacon  noticed  the  same  pecu- 
liarities about  Tom. 


350  WHAT   SHE   TEACHES  PET. 

"  She  never  got  a  word  from  him,"  continued  the  dea- 
con;  "but  one  of  her  own  came  back,  addressed  in  his 
writing." 

"  The  infernal  scoundrel !"  growled  Tom,  while  from  the 
rest  of  the  boys  escaped  epithets  which  caused  the  deacon, 
indignant  as  he  was,  to  shiver  with  horror. 

"  She  was  nearly  crazy,  an'  started  to  find  him,  but  no- 
body knowed  where  he  was.  The  postmaster  said  he'd 
come  to  the  office  ev'ry  day  for  a  fortnight,  askin'  for  a  let- 
ter, so  he  must  hev  got  hers." 

"  Ef  all  women  had  such  stuff  in  'em,"  sighed  Tom, 
"  there'll  be  one  fool  less  in  California.  'Xcuse  me,  deac'n." 

"She  never  gev  up  hopin'  he'd  come  back,"  said  the 
deacon,  in  accents  that  seemed  to  indicate  labored  breath 
"  an'  it  sometimes  seems  ez  ef  such  faith  'd  be  rewarded  by 
the  Lord  some  time  or  other.  She  teaches  Pet — that's  her 
child — to  talk  about  her  papa,  an'  to  kiss  his  pictur ;  an* 
when  she  an'  Pet  goes  to  sleep,  his  pictur' s  on  the  pillar 
beween  'em." 

"  An'  the  idee  that  any  feller  could  be  mean  enough  to 
go  back  on  such  a  woman!  Deacon,  I'd  track  him  right 
through  the  world,  an'  just  tell  him  what  you've  told  us. 
Ef  that  didn't  fetch  him,  I'd  consider  it  a  Christian  duty  an' 
privilege  to  put  a  hole  through  him." 

"I  couldn't  do  that,"  replied  the  deacon,  "even  ef  I  was 
a  man  uv  blood ;  fur  Hesby  loves  him,  an'  he's  Pet's  dad; 
Besides,  his  pictur  looks  like  a  decent  young  chap — ain't 
got  no  hair  on  his  face,  an'  looks  more  like  an  innercent  boy 
than  anythin'  else.  Hesby  thinks  Pet  looks  like  him,  an'  I 
couldn't  touch  nobody  looking  like  Pet.  Mebbe  you'd  like 
to  see  her  pictur,"  continued  the  deacon,  drawing  from  his 
pocket  an  ambrotype,  which  he  opened  and  handed  Tom. 

"  Looks  sweet  ez  a  posy,"  said  Tom,  regarding  it  tender- 
ly. "  Them  little  lips  uv  hern  look  jest  like  a  rose  when  it 
don't  know  whether  to  open  a  little  farther  or  not." 

The  deacon  looked  pleased,  and  extracted  another  pic- 
ture, and  remarked,  as  he  handed  it  to  Tom : 

"  That's  Pet's  mother." 


THE  DEACON  LOOKED  PLEASED,  AND  EXTKACTED  ANOTHER  PICTT7BB,  AND 
EEMABKED,  AS  HE  HANDED  IT  TO  TOM,  "  THAT'S  PET'S  MOTHEB."  TOM 
TOOK  IT,  LOOKED  AT  IT,  AND  SCBEAMED,  «'  MY  WIFB  I  " 


352 


PET'S   FATHER   EXPLAINS.  353 

Tom  took  it,  looked  at  it,  and  screamed : 

"  My  wife  /" 

He  threw  himself  on  the  floor,  and  cried  as  only  a  big- 
hearted  man  can  cry. 

The  deacon  gazed  wildly  about,  and  gasped : 

"What's  his  name?— tell  me  quick  !" 

"  Tom  Dosser !"  answered  a  dozen  or  more. 

"  That's  him  !  Bless  the  Lord  !"  cried  the  deacon,  and 
finding  a  seat,  dropped  into  it,  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

For  several  moments  there  was  a  magnificent  attempt  at 
silence,  but  it  utterly  failed.  The  boys  saw  that  the  dea- 
con and  Tom  were  working  a  very  large  claim,  and  to  the 
best  of  their  ability  they  assisted. 

Stumpy  Flukes,  under  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  bar, 
was  able  to  fully  express  his  feelings  through  his  eyelids, 
but  the  remainder  of  the  party,  by  taking  turns  at  staring 
out  the  windows,  and  contemplating  the  bottles  behind 
the  bar,  managed  to  delude  themselves  into  the  belief  that 
their  eyes  were  invisible.  Finally,  Tom  arose.  "  Deacon — 
boys,"  he  said,  "  I  never  got  that  letter.  I  wus  afeard  she'd 
hear  about  my  scrape,  so  I  wrote  her  all  about  it,  ez  soon 
ez  I  got  sober,  an'  begged  her  to  forgive  me.  An'  I  waited 
an'  hoped  an'  prayed  for  an  answer,  till  I  growed  desperate* 
an'  came  out  here." 

"  She  never  heerd  from  you,  Thomas,"  sighed  the  dea- 
con. 

"  Deac'n,"  said  Tom,  "  do  you  s'pose*  I'd  hev  kerried 
this  for  years  " — here  he  drew  out  a  small  miniature  of  his 
wife — "ef  I  hadn't  loved  her?  Yes,  an'  this  too,"  continued 
Tom,  producing  a  thin  package,  wrapped  in  oilskin. 
"  There's  the  only  two  letters  I  ever  got  from  her,  an',  just 
'cos  her  hand  writ  'em,  I've  had  'em  just  where  I  took  'em 
from  for  four  years.  I  got  'em  at  Albany,  'fore  I  got  on 
that  cussed  tare,  an'  they  was  both  so  sweet  an'  wifely,  that 
I've  never  dared  to  read  'em  since,  fur  fear  that  thinkin'  on 
what  I'd  lost  would  make  me  even  wuss  than  I  am.  But  I 


"354  NAMING  THEIR  MEDICINE. 

ain't  afeard  now,"  said  Tom,  eagerly  tearing  off  the  oilskin, 
and  disclosing  two  envelopes. 

He  opened  one,  took  out  the  letter,  opened  it  with  trem- 
bling hands,  stared  blankly  at  it,  and  handed  it  to  the  dea- 
con. 

"  Thar's  my  letter  now — I  got  'em  in  the  wrong  enve- 
lope !" 

"  Thomas,"  said  the  deacon,  "  the  best  thing  you  can  do 
is  to  deliver  that  letter  yourself.  An'  don't  let  any  grass 
^grow  under  your  feet,  ef  you  ken  help  it." 

"  I'm  goin'  by  the  first  hoss  I  ken  steal,"  said  Tom. 

"  An'  tell  her  I'll  be  along  ez  soon  as  I  pan  out  enough," 
•continued  the  deacon. 

"An'  tell  her,"  said  Boston  Ben,  "that  the  gov'nor  won't 
be  much  behind  you.  Tell  her  that  when  the  crowd  found 
•out  how  game  the  old  man  was,  and  what  was  on  his  mind, 
that  the  court  was  so  ashamed  of  hisself  that  he  passed 
around  the  hat  for  Pet's  benefit,  and" — here  Boston  Ben 
thoughtfully  weighed  the  hat  in  his  hands — "  and  that  the 
apology's  heavy  enough  to  do  Europe  a  dozen  times  ;  I  know 
it,  for  I've  had  to  travel  myself  occasionally." 

Here  he  deposited  the  venerable  tile  with  its  precious 
contents  on  the  floor  in  fronfc  of  the  deacon.  The  old  man 
looked  at  it,  and  his  eyes  filled  afresh,  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"  God  bless  you !  I  wish  I  could  do  something  for  you 
in  return." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  Boston  Ben,  "unless — you — 
You  couldn't  make  up  your  mind  to  a  match  with  English 
•Sam,  could  you?" 

"  Come,  boys,"  interrupted  Stumpy  Flukes  ;  "  its  my  treat 
— name  your  medicine — fill  high — all  charged? — now  then 
— bottom  up,  to  'The  meanest  man  at  Blugsey's' !" 

"That  did  mean  you,  deacon!"  exclaimed  Tom;  "but I 
claim  it  myself  now,  so — so  I  won't  drink  it." 

The  remainder  of  the  crowd  clashed  glasses,  while  Tom 
-and  his  father-in-law  bowed  profoundly.  Then  the  whole 
<crowd  went  out  to  steal  horses  for  the  two  men,  and  had 


WHAT  THE   CHURCH   HAD  TO   ANSWER  FUR. 


355 


them  on  the  trail  within  an  hour.  As  they  rode  off,  Stumpy 
Flukes  remarked : 

"There's  a  splendid  shot  ruined  for  life." 

"Yes,"  said  Boston  Ben,  with  a  deep  sigh  struggling  out 
of  his  manly  bosom,  "  an'  a  bully  rassler,  too.  The  Church 
has  got  a  good  deal  to  answer  fur,  fur  sp'ilin'  that  man's 
chances.*' 


DEACON    BARKER'S    CONVERSION. 

OF  the  several  pillars  of  the  Church  at  Pawkin  Centre, 
Deacon  Barker  was  by  all  odds  the  strongest.  His 
orthodoxy  was  the  admiration  of  the  entire  congregation, 
and  the  terror  of  all  the  ministers  within  easy  driving  dis- 
tance of  the  Deacon's  native  village.  He  it  was  who  had 
argued  the  late  pastor  of  the  Pawkin  Centre  Church  into 
that  state  of  disquietude  which  had  carried  him,  through  a 
few  days  of  delirious  fever,  into  the  Church  triumphant ;  and 
it  was  also  Deacon  Barker  whose  questions  at  the  examina- 
tion of  seekers  for  the  ex-pastor's  shoes  had  cast  such  con- 
sternation into  divinity-schools,  far  and  near,  that  soon  it 
was  very  hard  to  find  a  candidate  for  ministerial  honors  at 
Pawkin  Centre. 

Nor  was  his  faith  made  manifest  by  words  alone.  Be 
the  weather  what  it  might,  the  Deacon  was  always  in  his 
pew,  both  morning  and  evening,  in  time  to  join  in  the  first 
hymn,  and  on  every  Thursday  night,  at  a  quarter  past  seven 
in  winter,  and  a  quarter  before  eight  in  summer,  the  good 
Deacon's  cane  and  shoes  could  be  heard  coming  solemnly 
down  the  aisle,  bringing  to  the  prayer-meeting  the  cham- 
pion of  orthodoxy.  Nor  did  the  holy  air  of  the  prayer- 
meeting  even  one  single  evening  fail  to  vibrate  to  the  voice 
of  the  Deacon,  as  he  made,  in  scriptural  language,  humble 
confessions  and  tearful  pleadings  before  the  throne,  or  — 
still  strictly  scriptural  in  expression — he  warned  and  ex- 
horted the  impenitent.  The  contribution-box  always  re- 
ceived his  sixpence  as  long  as  specie  payment  lasted,  and 

366 


USING  THE  LOKD'S  MONEY.  357 

the  smallest  fractional  currency  note  thereafter ;  and  to 
each  of  the  regular  annual  offerings  to  the  missionary  cause, 
the  Bible  cause,  and  kindred  Christian  enterprises,  the 
Deacon  regularly  contributed  his  dollar  and  his  prayers. 

The  Deacon  could  quote  scripture  in  a  manner  which 
put  Biblical  professors  to  the  blush,  and  every  principle  of 
his  creed  so  bristled  with  texts,  confirmatory,  sustentive  and 
aggressive,  that  doubters  were  rebuked  and  free-thinkers 
were  speedily  reduced  to  speechless  humility  or  rage.  But 
the  unregenerate,  and  even  some  who  professed  righteous- 
ness, declared  that  more  fondly  than  to  any  other  scriptural 
passage  did  the  good  Deacon  cling  to  the  injunction, 
"  Make  to  yourselves  friends  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteous- 
ness." Meekly  insisting  that  he  was  only  a  steward  of  the 
Lord,  he  put  out  his  Lord's  money  that  he  might  receive  it 
again  with  usury,  and  so  successful  had  he  been  that  almost 
all  mortgages  held  on  property  near  Pawkin  Centre  were  in 
the  hands  of  the  good  Deacon,  and  few  were  the  foreclosure 
sales  in  which  he  was  not  the  seller. 

The  new  pastor  at  Pawkin  Centre,  like  good  pastors 
everywhere,  had  tortured  himself  into  many  a  headache 
over  the  perplexing  question,  "  How  ave  we  to  reach  the 
impenitent  in  our  midst !"  The  said  impenitent  were,  with 
but  few  exceptions,  industrious,  honest,  respectable,  law- 
abiding  people,  and  the  worthy  pastor,  as  fully  impregnated 
with  Yankee-thrift  as  with  piety,  shuddered  to  think  of  the 
waste  of  souls  that  was  constantly  threatening.  At  length, 
like  many  another  pastor,  he  called  a  meeting  of  the  breth- 
ren, to  prayerfully  consider  this  momentous  question.  The 
Deacon  came,  of  course,  and  so  did  all  the  other  pillars, 
and  many  of  them  presented  their  views.  Brother  Grave 
thought  the  final  doom  of  the  impenitent  should  be  more 
forcibly  presented ;  Deacon  Struggs  had  an  abiding  convic- 
tion that  it  was  the  Man  of  Sin  holding  dominion  in  their 
hearts  chat  kept  these  people  away  from  the  means  of 
grace  ;  Deacon  Ponder  mildlj  suggested  that  the  object 
might  perhaps  be  attained  if  those  within  the  fold  main- 


358  THE  DEACON'S  MISSION. 

tained  a  more  godly  walk  and  conversation,  but  he  was 
promptly  though  covertly  rebuked  by  the  good  Deacon 
Barker,  who  reminded  the  brethren  that  "  it  is  the  Spirit 
that  quickeneth";  Brother  Elite,  who  hadn't  any  money, 
thought  the  Church  ought  to  build  a  "working-man's 
chapel,"  but  this  idea  was  promptly  and  vigorously  com- 
bated by  all  men  of  property  in  the  congregation.  By  this 
time  the  usual  closing  hour  had  arrived,  and  after  a  bene- 
diction the  faithful  dispersed,  each  with  about  the  ideas 
he  brought  to  the  meeting. 

Early  next  morning  the  good  Deacon  Barker,  with  his 
mind  half  full  of  the  state  of  the  unconverted,  and  half  of 
his  unfinished  cow-shed,  took  his  stick  and  hobbled  about 
the  village  in  search  of  a  carpenter  to  finish  the  incomplete 
structure.  There  was  Moggs,  but  Moggs  had  been  busy  all 
the  season,  and  it  would  be  just  like  him  to  want  full  price 
for  a  day's  work.  Stubb  was  idle,  but  Stubb  was  slow. 

Augur Augur  used  liquor,  and  the  Deacon  had  long  ago 

firmly  resolved  that  not  a  cent  of  his  money,  if  he  could 
help  it,  should  ever  go  for  the  accursed  stuff.  But  there 
was  Hay — he  hadn't  seen  him  at  work  for  a  long  time — 
perhaps  he  would  be  anxious  enough  for  work  to  do  it 
cheaply. 

The  Deacon  knocked  at  Hay's  door,  and  Hay  himself 
shouted : 

"  Come  in." 

"  How  are  ye,  George,"  said  the  Deacon,  looking  hastily 
about  the  room,  and  delightfully  determining,  from  the 
patient  face  of  sad-eyed  Mrs.  Hay  and  the  scanty  furnishing 
of  the  yet  uncleared  breakfast-table,  that  he  had  been  provi- 
dentially guided  to  the  right  spot.  "  How's  times  with  ye  ?" 

"  Not  very  good,  Deac'n,"  replied  Hay.  "  Nothin'  much 
doiii'  in  town." 

"  Money's  awful  sceerce,"  groaned  the  Deacon. 

"Dreadful,"  responded  George,  devoutly  thanking  the 
Lord  that  he  owed  the  Deacon  nothing. 

"  Got  much  to  do  this  winter  ?"  asked  the  Deacon. 


VALUE   OF  LABOR  ON  A   COW-SHED.  359 

"  Not  by  a  d — day's  job — not  a  single  day,"  sorrowfully 
replied  Hay. 

The  Deacon's  pious  ear  had  been  shocked  by  the  young 
man's  imperfectly  concealed  profanity,  and  for  an  instant  he 
thought  of  administering  a  rebuke,  but  the  charms  of  pro- 
spective cheap  labor  lured  the  good  man  from  the  path  of 
rectitude. 

"  I'm  fixin'  my  cow-shed — might  p'raps  give  ye  a  job 
on't.  'Spose  ye'd  do  it  cheap,  seem'  how  dull  ev'ry  thin* 
is?" 

The  sad  eyes  of  Mrs.  Hay  grew  bright  in  an  instant. 
Her  husband's  heart  jumped  up,  but  he  knew  to  whom  he- 
was  talking,  so  he  said,  as  calmly  as  possible  : 

"  Three  dollars  is  reg'lar  pay." 

The  Deacon  immediately  straightened  up  as  if  to  go. 

"  Too  much,"  said  he  ;  "  I'd  better  hire  a  common  lab'rer 
at  a  dollar  'n  a  half,  an'  boss  him  myself.  It's  only  a  cow- 
shed, ye  know." 

"  Guess,  though,  ye  won't  want  the  nails  druv  no  less- 
p'ticler,  will  ye,  Deac'n  ?"  inquired  Hay.-  "But  I  tell  yer 
what  I'll  do — I'll  throw  off  fifty  cents  a  day." 

"  Two  dollars  ort  to  be  enough,  George,"  resumed  the 
Deacon.  "  Carpenterin's  pooty  work,  an'  takes  a  sight  of 
headpiece  sometimes,  but  there's  no  intellec'  required  to- 
work  on  a  cow-shed.  Say  two  dollars,  an'  come  along." 

The  carpenter  thought  bitterly  of  what  a  little  way  the 
usual  three  dollars  went,  and  of  how  much  would  have  to- 
be  done  with  what  he  could  get  out  of  the  cow-shed,  but 
the  idea  of  losing  even  that  was  too  horrible  to  be  endured, 
so  he  hastily  replied  : 

"  Two  an'  a  quarter,  an'  I'm  your  man." 

"Well,"  said  the  Deacon,  "it's  a  powerful  price  to  pay 
for  work  on  a  cow-shed,  but  I  s'pose  I  mus'  stan'  it.  Hurry 
up  ;  thar's  the  mill- whistle  blowin'  seven." 

Hay  snatched  his  tools,  kissed  a  couple  of  thankful  tears 
out  of  his  wife's  eyes,  and  was  soon  busy  on  the  cow-shed, 
with  the  Deacon  looking  on. 

23 


360  COW-SHEDS  AND  HELL. 

"George,"  said  the  Deacon  suddenly,  causing  the  car- 
penter to  stop  his  hammer  in  mid-air,  "  think  it  over  agen, 
an'  say  two  dollars." 

Hay  gave  the  good  Deacon  a  withering  glance,  and  for  a 
few  moments  the  force  of  suppressed  profanity  caused  his 
hammer  to  bang  with  unusual  vigor,  while  the  owner  of  the 
cow-shed  rubbed  his  hands  in  ecstasy  at  the  industry  of  his 
employe. 

The  air  was  bracing,  the  Winter  sun  shone  brilliantly, 
the  Deacon's  breakfast  was  digesting  fairly,  and  his  mind 
had  not  yet  freed  itself  from  the  influences  of  the  Sabbath. 
Besides,  he  had  secured  a  good  workman  at  a  low  price, 
and  all  these  influences  combined  to  put  the  Deacon  in  a 
pleasant  frame  of  mind.  He  rambled  through  his  mind  for 
a  text  which  would  piously  express  his  condition,  and  texts 
brought  back  Sunday,  and  Sunday  reminded  him  of  the 
meeting  of  the  night  before.  And  here  was  one  of  those 
very  men  before  him — a  good  man  in  many  respects,  though 
he  was  higher-priced  than  he  should  be.  How  was  the 
cause  of  the  Master  to  be  prospered  if  His  servants  made 
no  effort?  Then  there  came  to  the  Deacon's  mind  the 

passage,  " he  which  converteth  the  sinner  from  the  error 

of  his  way  shall  save  a  soul  from  death,  and  shall  hide  a 
multitude  of  sins."  What  particular  sins  of  his  own  needed 
hiding  the  Deacon  did  not  find  it  convenient  to  remember 
just  then,  but  he  meekly  admitted  to  himself  and  the  Lord 
that  he  had  them,  in  a  general  way.  Then,  with  that  direct- 
ness and  grace  which  were  characteristic  of  him,  the  Deacon 
solemnly  said : 

"  George,  what  is  to  be  the  sinner's  doom  ?" 

"  I  dunno,"  replied  George,  his  wrath  still  warm  ;  "'pears 
to  me  you've  left  that  bizness  till  pretty  late  in  life,  Deac'n  !" 

"Don't  trifle  with  sacrid  subjec's,  George,"  said  the  Dea- 
con, still  very  solemn,  and  with  a  suspicion  of  annoyance 
in  his  voice.  "  The  wicked  shall  be  cast  into  hell,  with —  " 

"  They  can't  kerry  their  cow-sheds  with  'em,  neither," 
interrupted  George,  consolingly. 


THE  DEACON'S  ECONOMY  CROPS  OUT.  361 

"  Come,  George,"  said  the  good  Deacon,  in  an  appealing 
tone,  "remember  the  apostle  says,  'Suffer  the  word  of  ex- 
hortation.' " 

"  'Xcuse  me,  Deac'n,  but  one  sufferin'  at  a  time ;  I  ain't 
through  sufferin'  at  bein'  beaten  down  yet.  How  about 
deac'ns  not  being  'given  to  filthy  lucre?'  " 

The  good  Deacon  was  pained,  and  he  was  almost  out  of 
patience  with  the  apostle  for  writing  things  which  came  so 
handy  to  the  lips  of  the  unregenerate.  He  commenced  an 
industrious  search  for  a  text  which  should  completely  an- 
nihilate the  impious  carpenter,  when  that  individual  inter- 
rupted him  with  : 

"  Out  with  it,  Deac'n — ye  had  a  meetin'  las'  night  to  see 
what  was  to  be  done  with  the  impenitent.  I  was  there — 
that  is,  I  sot  on  a  stool  jest  outside  the  door,  an'  I  heerd  all 
'twas  said.  Ye  didn't  agree  on  nothin' — mebbe  ye'v  fixed 
it  up  sence.  Any  how,  ye'v  sot  me  down  fur  one  of  the  im- 
penitent, an'  yer  goin'  fur  me.  "Well " 

"  Go  on  nailin',''  interrupted  the  economical  Deacon,  a 
little  testily ;  the  noise  don't  disturb  me ;  I  can  hear  ye." 

"  Wvill,  what  way  am  I  so  much  wickeder  'n  you  be — you 
an'  t'other  folks  at  the  meetin' -house  ?"  asked  Hay. 

"George,  I  never  saw  ye  in  God's  house  in  my  life,"  re- 
plied the  Deacon. 

"Well,  s'pose  ye  hevn't — is  God  so  small  He  can't  be 
nowheres  'xcept  in  your  little  meetin'-house?  How  about 
His  seein'  folks  in  their  closets  ?" 

"  George,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  ef  yer  a  prayin'  man,  why 
don't  ye  jine  yerself  unto  the  Lord's  people  ?" 

"Why?  'Cos  the  Lord's  people,  as  you  call  'em,  don't 
want  me.  S'pose  I  was  to  come  to  the  meetin'-house  in 
these  clothes — the  only  ones  I've  got — d'ye  s'pose  any  of  the 
Lord's  people  'd  open  a  pew-door  to  me  ?  An'  spose  my 
wife  an'  children,  dressed  no  better  'n  I  be/ but  as  good  's  I 
can  afford,  was  with  me,  how  d'ye  s'pose  I'd  feel  ?" 

"  Pride  goeth  before  a  fall,  an'  a  haughty  sperit  before," 
groaned  the  Deacon,  when  the  carpenter  again  interrupted. 


362  FOLKS  KEPT   OUT   OF  THE   MEETING-HOUSE. 

"I'd  feel  as  ef  the  the  people  of  God  was  a  gang  of  in- 
sultin'  hypocrites,  an'  ez  ef  I  didn't  ever  want  to  see  'em 
again.  Ef  that  kind  o'  pride's  sinful,  the  devil's  a  saint. 
Ef  there's  anythin'  wrong  about  a  man's  feelin'  so  about 
himself  and  them  God  give  him,  God's  to  blame  for  it  him- 
self ;  but  seein'  it's  the  same  feelin'  that  makes  folks  keep 
'emselves  strait  in  all  other  matters,  I'll  keep  on  thinkin' 
it's  right." 

"But  the  preveleges  of  the  Gospel,  George,"  remon- 
strated the  Deacon. 

"Don't  you  s'pose  I  know  what  they're  wuth?"  con- 
tinued the  carpenter.  "  Haven't  I  hung  around  in  front  of 
the  meetin' -house  Summer  nights,  when  the  winders  was 
open,  jest  to  listen  to  the  singin'  and  what  else  I  could  hear  ? 
Hezn't  my  wife  ben  with  me  there  many  a  time,  and  hevn't 
both  of  us  prayed  an'  groaned  an'  cried  in  our  hearts,  not 
only  'cos  we  couldn't  join  in  it  all  ourselves,  but  'cos  we 
couldn't  send  the  children  either,  without  their  learnin'  to 
hate  religion  'fore  they  fairly  know'd  what  'twas  ?  Haven't 
I  sneaked  in  to  the  vestibule  Winter  nights,  an'  sot  just 
where  I  did  last  night,  an'  heard  what  I'd  'a  liked  my  wife 
and  children  to  hear,  an'  prayed  for  the  time  to  come  when 
the  self-app'inted  elect  shouldn't  offend  the  little  ones?  An' 
after  sittin'  there  last  night,  an'  comin'  home  and  tellin'  my 
wife  how  folks  was  concerned  about  us,  an'  our  rejoicin' 
together  in  the  hope  that  some  day  our  children  could  hev 
the  chances  we're  shut  out  of  now,  who  should  come  along 
this  mornin'  but  one  of  those  same  holy  people,  and  Jewed 
me  down  on  pay  that  the  Lord  knows  is  hard  enough  to 
live  on." 

The  Deacon  had  a  heart,  and  he  knew  the  nature  of  self- 
respect  as  well  as  men  generally.  His  mind  ran  entirely 
outside  of  texts  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then,  with  a  sigh  for 
the  probable  expense,  he  remarked : 

"  Beckon  Elite's  notion  was  right,  after  all — ther'  ort  to 
be  a  workin'-man's  chapel." 

"Ort?"  responded  Hay;  "who  d'ye  s'pose  VI  go  to  it? 


CHEAP  BELIGION  NOT  WANTED.  365 

Nobody  ?  Te  can  rent  us  second-class  houses,  an'  sell  us 
second-hand  clothin',  and  the  cheapest  cuts  o'  meat,  but 
when  it  conies  to  cheap  religion — nobody  knows  its  value 
better  'n  we  do.  We  don't  want  to  go  into  yer  parlors  on 
carpets  and  furniture  we  don't  know  how  to  use,  an'  we 
don't  expect  to  be  asked  into  society  where  our  talk  an1 
manners  might  make  some  better  eddicated  people  laugh. 
But  when  it  comes  to  religion — God  knows  nobody  needs 
an'  deserves  the  very  best  article  more  'n  we  do." 

The  Deacon  was  a  reasonable  man,  and  being  old,  was 
beginning  to  try  to  look  fairly  at  matters  upon  which  he 
expected  soon  to  be  very  thoroughly  examined.  The  indig- 
nant protest  of  the  carpenter  had,  he  feared,  a  great  deal  of 
reason,  and  yet — God's  people  deserved  to  hold  their  posi- 
tion, if,  as  usual,  the  argument  ended  where  it  began.  So 
he  asked,  rather  triumphantly : 

"  What  is  to  be  done,  then?" 

"  Reform  God's  people  themselves,"  replied  the  carpen- 
ter, to  the  horror  of  the  pious  old  man.  "  When  the  right 
hand  of  fellowship  is  reached  out  to  the  front,  instead  of 
stuck  behind  the  back  when  a  poor  man  comes  along, 
there'll  be  plenty  that'll  be  glad  to  take  it.  Reform  yer  own 
people,  Deac'n.  'Fore  yer  pick  out  of  our  eyes  the  motes 
we'll  be  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of,  ye  can  get  a  fine  lot  of 
heavy  lumber  out  of  yer  own." 

Soldiers  of  the  Cross,  no  more  than  any  other  soldiers, 
should  stand  still  and  be  peppered  when  unable  to  reply ; 
at  least  so  thought  the  Deacon,  and  he  prudently  with- 
drew. 

Reform  God's  people  themselves  !  The  Deacon  was  too 
old  a  boy  to  tell  tales  out  of  school,  but  he  knew  well  enough 
there  was  room  for  reform.  Of  course  there  was — weren't 
we  all  poor  sinners  ? — when  we  would  do  good  wasn't  evil 
ever  present  with  us  ? — what  business  had  other  sinners  to 
complain,  when  they  wern't,  at  least,  any  better  ?  Besides, 
suppose  he  were  to  try  to  reform  the  ways  of  Brother 
Graves  and  Deacon  Struggs  and  others  he  had  in  his  mind 


366  THE  DEACON  THINKING. 

— would  the j  rest  until  they  had  attempted  to  reform  him  ? 
And  who  was  to  know  just  what  quantity  and  quality  of 
reform  was  necessary  ?  "  Be  not  carried  about  with  divers 
and  strange  doctrines.'*  The  matter  was  too  great  for  his 
comprehension,  so  he  obeyed  the  injunction,  "  Commit  thy 
way  unto  the  Lord." 

But  the  Lord  relegated  the  entire  matter  to  the  Deacon. 
Hay  did  a  full  day's  work,  the  Deacon  made  a  neat  little 
sum  by  recovering  on  an  old  judgment  he  had  bought  for  a 
mere  song,  and  the  Deacon's  red  cow  made  an  addition  to 
the  family  in  the  calf-pen;  yet  the  Deacon  was  far  from 
comfortable.  The  idea  that  certain  people  must  stay  away 
from  God's  house  until  God's  people  were  reformed,  seemed 
to  the  Deacon's  really  human  heart  something  terrible.  If 
they  would  be  so  proud — and  yet,  people  who  would  stand 
outside  the  meeting-house  and  listen,  and  pray  and  weep 
because  their  children  were  as  badly  off  as  they,  could 
scarcely  be  very  proud.  He  knew  there  couldn't  be  many 
such,  else  this  out-of-door  congregation  would  be  noticed — 
there  certainly  wasn't  a  full  congregation  of  modest  me- 
chanics in  the  vestibule  of  which  Hay  spoke,  and  yet,  who 
could  tell  how  many  more  were  anxious  and  troubled  on 
the  subject  of  their  eternal  welfare. 

Wnat  a  pity  it  was  that  those  working-men  who  wished 
to  repair  to  the  sanctuary  could  not  have  steady  work  and 
full  pay !  If  he  had  only  known  all  this  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  did  not  know  but  he  might  have  hired  him  at  three 
dollars ;  though,  really,  was  a  man  to  blame  for  doing  his 
best  in  the  labor  market  ?  "  Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  mam- 
mon." Gracious !  he  could  almost  declare  he  heard  the 
excited  carpenter's  voice  delivering  that  text.  What  had 
brought  that  text  into  his  head  just  now  ? — he  had  never 
thought  of  it  before. 

The  Deacon  rolled  and  tossed  on  his  bed,  and  the  sub- 
ject of  his  conversation  with  the  carpenter  tormented  him 
so  he  could  not  sleep.  Of  one  thing  he  was  certain,  and 
that  was  that  the  reform  of  the  Church  at  Pawkin  Centre 


THE   COST  OF  A  CHUKOH  SUIT.  367 

was  not  to  be  relied  on  in  an  extremity,  and  was  not  such 
hungering  and  thirsting  after  righteousness  an  extreme 
case  ? — had  he  ever  really  known  many  such !  If  Hay  only 
had  means,  the  problem  would  afford  its  own  solution.  The 
good  Deacon  solemnly  declared  to  himself  that  if  Hay  could 
give  good  security,  he  (the  Deacon)  would  try  to  lend  him 
the  money. 

But  even  this  (to  the  Deacon)  extraordinary  concession 
was  unproductive  of  sleep.  "  He  that  giveth  to  the  poor 
lendeth  to  the  Lord."  There!  he  could  hear  that  indignant 
carpenter  again.  What  an  unsatisfactory  passage  that  was, 
to  be  sure  !  If  it  would  only  read  the  other  way — it  didn't 
seem  a  bit  business-like  the  way  it  stood.  And  yet,  as  the 
Deacon  questioned  himself  there  in  the  dark,  he  was  forced 
to  admit  that  he  had  a  very  small  balance — even  of  loans — 
to  his  credit  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord.  He  had  never  lent 
to  the  Lord  except  in  his  usual  business  manner — as  small 
a  loan  as  would  be  accepted,  on  as  extensive  collaterals  as 
he  could  exact.  Oh,  why  did  people  ever  forsake  the  sim- 
ple raiment  of  their  forefathers,  and  robe  themselves  in 
garments  grievous  in  price,  and  stumbling-blocks  in  the 
path  of  their  fellow-men  ? 

But  sleep  failed  even  to  follow  this  pious  reflection. 
Suppose — only  suppose,  of  course — that  he  were  to  give — 
lend,  that  is — lend  Hay  money  enough  to  dress  his  family 
fit  for  church — think  what  a  terrible  lot  of  money  it  would 
take !  A  common  neat  suit  for  a  man  would  cost  at  least 
thirty  dollars,  an  overcoat  nearly  twice  as  much;  a  suit 
cloak,  and  other  necessities  for  his  wife  would  amount  to  as 
much  more,  and  the  children — oh,  the  thing  couldn't  be 
done  for  less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Of  course, 
it  was  entirely  out  of  the  question — he  had  only  wondered 
what  it  would  cost — that  was  all. 

Still  no  sleep.  He  wished  he  hadn't  spoken  with  Hay 
about  his  soul — next  time  he  would  mind  his  own  business. 
He  wished  he  hadn't  employed' Hay.  He  wished  the  meet- 
ing for  consideration  of  the  needs  of  the  impenitent  had 


368  THE  THREE  HUNDRED  DOLLAR  LOAN. 

never  taken  place.  "  No  man  can  come  to  me  except  the 
Father  which  sent  me  draw  him" — he  wished  he  had 
remembered  that  passage,  and  quoted  it  at  the  meeting 
— it  was  no  light  matter  to  interfere  with  the  Almighty's 
plans. 

"Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy." 
Hah !  Could  that  carpenter  be  in  the  room,  disarranging  his 
train  of  thought  with  such — such — tantalizing  texts  !  They 
had  kept  him  awake,  and  at  his  time  of  life  a  restless  night 
was  a  serious  matter.  Suppose — 

Very  early  the  next  morning  the  village  doctor,  return- 
ing from  a  patient's  bedside,  met  the  Deacon  with  a  face 
which  suggested  to  him  (the  doctor  was  pious  and  imagin- 
ative) "  Abraham  on  Mount  Moriah."  The  village  butcher, 
more  practical,  hailed  the  good  man,  and  informed  him  he 
was  in  time  for  a  fine  steak,  but  the  Deacon  shook  his  head 
in  agony,  and  passed  on.  He  neared  the  carpenter's  house, 
stopped,  tottered,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  as  if  intend- 
ing to  run ;  at  length  he  made  his  way  behind  the  house, 
where  Hay  was  chopping  firewood.  The  carpenter  saw 
him  and  turned  pale — he  feared  the  Deacon  had  found 
cheaper  labor,  ahd  had  come  to  give  him  warning. 

"George,"  said  the  Deacon,  "I've  been  doin'  a  heap  of 
thinkin'  'bout  what  we  talked  of  yesterday.  I've  come  to 
say  that  if  you  like  I'll  lend  you  three  hundred  dollars  fur 
as  long  as  ye'v  a  mind  to,  without  note,  security  or  int'rest ; 
you  to  spend  as  much  of  it  ez  ye  need  to  dress  you  an'  yer 
hull  fam'ly  in  Sunday  clothes,  and  to  put  the  balance  in 
the  Savin's  Bank,  at  interest,  to  go  on  doin'  the  same  with 
when  necessary.  An'  all  of  ye  to  go  to  church  when  ye  feel 
so  disposed.  An'  ef  nobody  else's  pew-door  opens,  yer 
allus  welcome  to  mine.  And  may  the  Lord "  the  Deacon 
finished  the  sentence  to  himself — "have  mercy  on  my  soul." 
Then  he  said,  aloud : 

"That's  all." 

The  carpenter,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Deacon's  speech, 
had  dropped  his  axe,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  one  of  his 


REPENTING   A   GOOD   DEED.  369 

feet.  As  the  Deacon  continued,  the  carpenter  dropped  his 
head  to  one  side,  raised  one  eye-brow  inquiringly,  and 
awaited  the  conditions.  But  when  the  Deacon  said  "  That's 
all,"  George  Hay  seized  the  Deacon's  hard  old  hand,  gave 
it  a  grasp  which  brought  agonized  tears  to  the  eyes  of  its 
venerable  owner,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Deacon,  God's  people  are  reformin' !  " 

The  Deacon  staggered  a  little — he  had  not  thought  of  it 
in  that  light  before. 

"  Deacon,  that  money  '11  do  more  good  than  all  the  prayin' 
ye  ever  done.  'Xcuse  me — I  must  tell  Mary,"  and  the  car- 
penter dashed  into  the  house.  Had  Mrs.  Hay  respected 
the  dramatic  proprieties,  she  would  have  made  the  Deacon 
a  neat  speech ;  but  the  truth  is,  she  regarded  him  from  be- 
hind the  window-blind,  and  wiped  her  eyes  with  the  corner 
of  her  apron;  seeing  which  the  Daacon  abruptly  started  for 
home,  making  less  use  of  his  cane  than  he  had  done  in  any 
day  for  years. 

It  is  grievous  to  relate,  but  truth  is  mighty — that  within 
a  fortnight  the  good  Deacon  repented  of  his  generous  ac- 
tion at  least  fifty  times.  He  would  die  in  the  poor-house  if 
he  were  so  extravagant  again.  Three  hundred  dollars  was 
more  than  the  cow-shed — lumber,  shingles,  nails,  labor  and 
all — would  cost.  Suppose  Hay  should  take  the  money  and 
go  West  ?  Suppose  he  should  take  to  drinking,  and  spend 
it  all  for  liquor!  One  suspicion  after  another  tortured  the 
poor  man  until  he  grew  thin  and  nervous.  But  on  the  sec- 
ond Sunday,  having  satisfied  himself  that  Hay  was  in  town, 
sober,  the  day  before,  that  he  had  been  to  the  city  and 
brought  back  bundles,  and  that  he  (the  Deacon)  had  seldom 
been  in  the  street  without  meeting  one  of  Hay's  children 
with  a  paper  of  hooks  and  eyes  or  a  spool  of  thread,  the 
Deacon  stationed  himself  in  one  of  his  own  front  windows, 
and  brought  his  spectacles  to  bear  on  Hay's  door,  a  little 
distance  off.  The  first  bell  had  rung,  apparently,  hours 
before,  yet  no  one  appeared — could  it  be  that  he  had  basely 
sneaked  to  the  city  at  night  and  pawned  everything  ?  No — 


37(5  THE   CONVERSION. 

the  door  opened — there  they  came.  It  couldn't  be — yes,  it 
was — well,  he  never  imagined  Hay  and  his  wife  were  so  fine 
a-looking  couple.  They  came  nearer,  and  the  Deacon,  for- 
getting his  cane,  hobbled  hurriedly  to  church,  entered  his 
pew,  and  left  the  door  wide  open.  He  waited  long,  it  seem- 
ed to  him,  but  they  did  not  come.  He  looked  around  im- 
patiently, and  there,  O,  joy  and  wonder  ! — the  president  of 
the  Pawkin  Savings'  Institution  had  invited  the  whole  fam- 
ily into  his  pew !  Just  then  the  congregation  rose  to  sing 
the  hymn  commencing : 

"  Pi'om  all  that  dwell  below  the  skies 
Let  the  Creator's  praise  arise"  ; 

and  the  Deacon,  in  his  excitement,  distance  1  the  choir,  and 
the  organ,  and  the  congregation,  and  almost  brought  the 
entire  musical  service  to  a  standstill. 

The  Deacon  had  intended  to  watch  closely  for  Hays'  con- 
version, but  something  wonderful  prevented — it  was  report- 
ed everywhere  that  the  Deacon  himself  had  been  converted, 
and  all  who  now  saw  the  Deacon  fully  believed  the  report. 
He  was  even  heard  to  say  that  as  there  seemed  to  be  some 
doubt  as  to  whether  faith  or  works  was  the  saving  virtue, 
he  intended  thereafter  to  practice  both.  He  no  longer 
mentions  the  poor-house  as  his  prospective  dwelling,  but  is 
heard  to  say  that  in  his  Father's  house  there  are  many 
mansions,  and  that  he  is  laying  up  his  treasure  in  heaven 
as  fast  as  possible,  and  hopes  he  may  get  it  all  on  the  way 
there  before  his  heart  is  called  for.  At  the  post-office,  the 
tin-shop  and  the  rum-shop  the  Deacon's  conversion  is  con- 
stantly discussed,  and  men  of  all  degrees  now  express  a  be- 
lief in  the  mighty  power  of  the  Spirit  from  on  high.  Other 
moneyed  men  have  been  smitten  and  changed,  and  the  pas- 
tor of  the  Pawkin  Centre  Church  daily  thanks  the  Lord  for 
such  a  revival  as  he  never  heard  of  before. 


JOE    GATTER'S    LIFE    INSURANCE. 

GOOD  ?  He  was  the  model  boy  of  Bungfield.  While  his 
idle  school-mates  were  flying  kites  and  playing  marbles, 
the  prudent  Joseph  was  trading  Sunday-school  tickets  for 
strawberries  and  eggs,  which  he  converted  into  currency  of 
the  republic.  As  he  grew  up,  and  his  old  school-mates  pur- 
chased cravats  and  hair-oil  at  Squire  Tackey's  store,  it  was 
the  industrious  Joseph  who  stood  behind  the  counter, 
wrapped  up  their  purchases,  and  took  their  money.  When 
the  same  boys  stood  on  the  street-corners  and  cast  sheep's 
eyes  at  the  girls,  the  business-like  Joseph  stood  in  the 
store-door  and  contemplated  these  same  toys  with  eyes 
such  as  a  hungry  cat  casts  upon  a  brood  of  young  birds 
who  he  expects  to  eat  when  they  grow  older.  Joe  never 
wasted  any  time  at  parties ;  he  never  wore  fine  clothing ;  he 
never  drank  nor  smoked ;  in  short,  Joe  was  so  industrious 
that  by  the  time  he  reached  his  majority  he  had  a  thousand 
dollars  in  the  bank,  and  not  a  solitary  virtue  in  his  heart. 

For  Joe's  money  good  Squire  Tackey  had  an  earnest 
longing,  and  soon  had  it  to  his  own  credit ;  while  the  sign 
over  the  store-door  read  "Tackey  &  Gatter."  Then  the 
Squire  wanted  Joe's  soul,  too,  and  so  earnest  was  he  that 
Joe  soon  found  it  necessary  to  remonstrate  with  his  partner. 

"'Twont  do,  Squire,"  said  he;  "religion's  all  very  well 
in  its  place,  but  when  a  man  loses  the  sale  of  a  dozen  eggs, 
profit  seven  cents,  because  his  partner  is  talking  religion 
with  him  so  hard  that  a  customer  gets  tired  of  waiting  and 
goes  somewhere  else,  then  religion's  out  of  place." 

371 


372  AN  OLD  INSUBANCE   AGENT. 

"  The  human  soul's  of  more  cons'kence  than  many  eggs, 
Joseph,"  argued  the  Squire. 

"That's  just  it,"  replied  Joe;  "money  don't  hit  the  value 
of  the  soul  any  way,  and  there's  no  use  trying  to  mix  'em. 
And  while  we're  talking,  don't  you  think  we  might  be  mix- 
ing some  of  the  settlings  of  the  molasses  barrel  with  the 
brown  sugar? — 'twill  make  it  weigh  better." 

The  Squire  sighed,  but  he  could  not  help  admitting  that 
Joe  was  as  good  a  partner  as  a  man  could  want. 

In  one  of  Joe's  leisure  moments  it  struck  him  that  if  he 
were  to  die,  nobody  would  lose  a  cent  by  the  operation. 
The  idea  was  too  exasperating,  and  soon  the  local  agents  of 
noted  insurance  companies  ceased  to  enjoy  that  tranquility 
which  is  characteristic  of  business  men  in  the  country. 
Within  a  fortnight  two  of  the  agents  were  arraigned  before 
their  respective  churches  for  profane  brawling,  while  Joe 
had  squeezed  certain  agents  into  dividing  commissions  to 
the  lowest  unit  of  divisibility,  and  had  several  policies  in 
the  safe  at  the  store. 

The  Squire,  his  partner,  was  agent  for  the  Pantagonian 
Mutual,  and  endured  his  full  share  of  the  general  agony 
Joe  had  caused.  But  when  he  had  handed  Joe  a  policy  and 
receipt,  and  taken  the  money,  and  counted  it  twice,  and 
seen  to  it  carefully  that  all  the  bills  were  good,  the  good 
Squire  took  his  revenge. 

"Joseph,"  said  he,  "you  ain't  through  with  insurance 
yet — you  need  to  insure  your  soul  against  risk  in  the  next 
world,  and  there's  only  one  Agent  that  does  it." 

The  junior  partner  stretched  himself  on  the  counter  and 
groaned.  He  knew  the  Squire  was  right — he  had  heard 
that  same  story  from  every  minister  he  had  ever  heard. 
Joe  was  so  agitated  that  he  charged  at  twelve  and  a  half 
cents  some  calico  he  had  sold  at  fifteen. 

Only  one  Agent!  But  the  shrewd  Joseph  rejoiced  to 
think  that  those  who  represented  the  Great  Agent  differed 
greatly  in  the  conditions  of  the  insurance,  and  that  some 
made  more  favorable  terms  than  others,  and  that  if  he 


THE   INSURANCE   COMPANY   SELECTED.  373 

could  get  the  ministers  thoroughly  interested  in  him,  he 
would  have  a  good  opportunity  for  comparing  rates.  The 
good  men  all  wanted  Joe,  for  he  was  a  rising  young  man, 
and  could,  if  the  Spirit  moved  him,  make  handsome  sub- 
scriptions to  good  purposes.  So,  in  their  zeal,  they  soon 
regarded  each  other  with  jealous  eyes,  and  reduced  their 
respective  creeds  to  gossamer  thinness.  They  agreed  about 
grace  being  free,  and  Joe  accepted  that  much  promptly,  as 
he  did  anything  which  could  be  had  without  price.  But  Joe 
was  a  practical  man,  and  though  he  found  fault  with  none 
of  the  doctrines  talked  at  him,  he  yet  hesitated  to  attach 
himself  to  any  particular  congregation.  He  finally  ascer- 
tained that  the  Reverend  Barzillai  Driftwood's  church  had 
no  debt,  and  that  its  contributions  to  missions  and  other 
religious  purposes  were  very  small,  so  Joe  allowed  himself 
to  be  gathered  into  the  fine  assortment  of  crooked  sticks 
which  the  Reverend  Barzillai  Driftwood  was  reserving  unto 
the  day  of  burning. 

Great  was  the  rejoicing  of  the  congregation  at  Joe's 
saving  act,  and  sincere  was  the  sorrow  of  the  other  churches, 
who  knew  their  own  creeds  were  less  shaky.  But  in  the 
saloon  and  on  the  street  Joe's  religious  act  was  discussed 
exclusively  on  its  merits,  and  the  results  were  such  as  only 
special  spiritual  labor  would  remove.  For  no  special  change 
was  noticeable  in  Joe  ;  on  Sunday  he  abjured  the  world, 
but  on  Monday  he  made  things  uncomfortable  for  the 
Widow  Macnilty,  whose  husband  had  died  in  the  debt  of 
Tackey  &  Gatter.  A  customer  bought  some  gingham,  on 
Joe's  assurance  that  the  colors  were  fast,  but  the  first  wash- 
day failed  to  confirm  Joe's  statement.  The  proprietor  of 
the  stage  line  between  Bungfield  and  Cleopas  Valley  traded 
horses  with  Joe,  and  was  afterward  heard  mentioning  his 
new  property  in  language  far  more  scriptural  than  proper. 

Still,  Joe  was  a  church-member,  and  that  was  a  patent 
of  respectability.  And  as  he  gained  years,  and  building 
lots,  and  horses,  and  commenced  discounting  notes,  his  re- 
spectability grew  and  waxed  great  in  the  minds  of  the 


374  A  NEW  BUSINESS  INVESTMENT. 

practical  people  of  Bungfield.  Even  good  women,  real 
mothers  in  Israel,  could  not  help  thinking,  as  they  sorrowed 
over  the  sand  in  the  bottoms  of  their  coffee-cnps,  and  grew 
wrathful  at  "  runney  "  flour  bought  for  "A  1  Superfine"  of 
Tackey  &  Gatter,  that  Joe  would  make  a  valuable  husband. 
So  thought  some  of  the  ladies  of  Bungfield,  and  as  young 
ladies  who  can  endure  the  idea  of  such  a  man  for  perpetual 
partner  can  also  signify  their  opinions,  Joe  began  to  com- 
prehend that  he  was  in  active  demand.  He  regarded  the 
matter  as  he  would  a  sudden  demand  for  any  commodity  of 
trade,  and  by  skillfully  manipulating  the  market  he  was 
soon  enabled  to  choose  from  a  full  supply. 

Thenceforward  Joe  was  as  happy  as  a  man  of  his  nature 
could  be.  All  his  investments  were  paying  well :  the  store 
was  prosperous,  he  was  successful  in  all  his  trading  enter- 
prises, he  had  purchased,  at  fearful  shaves,  scores  of  per- 
fectly good  notes,  he  realized  on  loans  interest  which  would 
cause  a  usury  law  to  shrivel  and  crack,  his  insurance  policies 
brought  him  fair  dividends,  and  his  wife  kept  house  with 
•economy  and  thrift.  But  the  church — the  church  seemed 
an  unmitigated  drag.  Joe  attended  all  the  church  meetings 
— determined  to  get  the  worth  of  the  money  he  was  com- 
pelled to  contribute  to  the  current  expenses — he  had  himself 
appointed  treasurer,  so  he  could  get  the  use  of  the  church 
money;  but  the  interest,  even  at  the  rates  Joe  generally 
obtained,  did  not  balance  the  amount  of  his  contribution. 

Joe  worried  over  the  matter  until  he  became  very 
peevish,  yet  he  came  no  nearer  a  business-like  adjustment 
of  receipts  and  expenditures.  One  day  when  his  venerable 
partner  presented  him  a  certificate  of  dividend  from  the 
Pantagonian  Mutual,  Joe  remarked  :  j 

"Never  got  any  dividends  on  that  other  insurance  you 
put  me  up  to  taking,  partner — that  'gainst  fire  risks  in  the 
next  world,  you  know.  'Twill  be  tough  if  there's  any  mis- 
take— church  does  take  a  sight  of  money." 

"Joseph,"  said  the  Squire,  in  a  sorrowful  tone,  "I've 
always  been  afeard  they  didn't  look  enough  into  your  evi- 


375 


FAITH    VERSUS  WORKS.  377 

dences  when  they  took  you  into  that  ehurch.  How  can  a 
man  expect  to  escape  on  the  day  of  wrath  if  he's  all  the 
time  grumbling  at  the  cost  of  his  salvation?  Mistake?  If 
you  don't  know  in  your  heart  the  truth  of  what  you  profess, 
there's  mighty  little  hope  for  you,  church  or  no  church." 

"  Know  in  my  heart !"  cried  Joe.  "That's  a  pretty  kind 
of  security.  Is  that  what  I've  been  paying  church  dues 
for  ?  Better  have  known  it  in  my  heart  in  the  first  place, 
and  saved  the  money.  "What's  the  use  of  believing  all 
these  knotty  points,  if  they  don't  make  a  sure  thing  for  a 
man?" 

"  If  your  belief  don't  make  you  any  better  or  happier, 
Joseph,"  rejoined  the  Squire,  "  you'd  better  look  again  and 
see  if  you've  got  a  good  hold  of  it ;  those  that's  got  a  clear 
title  don't  find  their  investment  as  slow  in  making  returns, 
while  those  that  find  fault  are  generally  the  ones  that's 
made  a  mistake." 

Poor  Joe !  He  thought  he  had  settled  this  whole  mat- 
ter ;  but  now,  if  his  partner  was  right,  he  was  worse  off 
than  if  he  had  n't  begun.  He  believed  in  justification  by 
faith ;  now,  was  n't  his  faith  strong — first  class,  he  might 
say  ?  To  be  sure  of  being  safe,  had  n't  he  believed  every- 
thing that  all  the  ministers  had  insisted  upon  as  essential  ? 
And  what  was  faith,  if  it  was  n't  believing  ?  He  would  ask 
his  partner ;  the  old  man  had  got  him  into  this  scrape — now 
he  must  see  him  through. 

"  Squire,"  said  he,  "  is  n't  faith  the  same  thing  as 
believing  ?" 

"  Well,  said  the  Squire,  adjusting  his  glasses,  and  taking 
from  the  desk  the  little  Testament  upon  which  he  adminis- 
tered oaths,  "  that  depends  on  how  you  believe.  Here's  a 
verse  on  the  subject :  '  Thou  believest  in  God ;  thou  doest 
well;  the  devils  also  believe,. and  tremble.'" 

Ugh !  Joe  shivered.  He  was  n't  an  aristocrat,  but  would 
any  one  fancy  such  companionship  as  the  Squire  referred  to  ? 

"  Here,  said  the  Squire,  turning  the  leaves,  "  is  another 
passage  bearin'  on  the  subject.  *O,  generation  of  vipers, 


378  UNCOMFORTABLE  TEXTS. 

who  hath  warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come? 
Bring  forth,  therefore,  fruits  meet  for  repentance.' ': 

Yipers !  Joe  uncomfortably  wondered  who  else  the 
Squire  was  going  to  introduce  into  the  brotherhood  of  the 
faith. 

"  Now,  see  what  it  says  in  another  place,"  continued  the 
Squire,  "  Not  every  one  that  saith  unto  Me  Lord,  Lord,  shall 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  he  that  doeth  the 
will  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

"Yes,"  said  Joe,  grateful  for  hearing  of  no  more  horrible 
believers,  "  but  what  is  his  will  but  believing  on  him  ? 
Don't  the  Bible  say  that  they  that  believe  shall  be 
saved?" 

"Joseph,"  said  the  Squire,  "when  you  believed  in  my 
store,  you  put  in  your  time  and  money  there.  When  you 
believed  in  hoss-tradin'  you  devoted  yourself  to  practicing 
it.  When  you  believed  life  insurance  was  a  good  thing,  you 
took  out  policies  and  paid  for  them,  though  you  have  com- 
plained of  the  Patagonian  dividends.  Now,  if  you  do 
believe  in  God,  what  have  you  done  to  prove  it?" 

"I've  paid  over  a  hundred  dollars  a  year  church  dues," 
said  Joe,  wrathfully,  "  not  counting  subscriptions  to  a  bell 
and  a  new  organ." 

"That  wasn't  for  God,  Joseph,"  said  the  Squire;  "  'twas 
all  for  you.  God  never'll  thank  you  for  running  an  asylum 
for  paupers  fit  to  work.  You'll  find  in  the  twenty-fifth 
chapter  of  Matthew  a  description  of  those  that's  going  into 
the  kingdom  of  heaven — they're  the  people  that  give  food 
and  clothing  to  the  needy,  and  that  visit  the  sick  and  pris- 
oners, while  those  that  don't  do  these  things  don't  go  in,  to 
put  it  mildly.  He  don't  say  a  word  about  belief  there, 
Joseph;  for  He  knows  that  giving  away  property  don't 
happen  till  a  man's  belief  is  pretty  strong." 

Joe  felt  troubled.  Could  it  really  be  that  his  eternal  in- 
surance was  going  to  cost  more  money?  Joe  thought 
enviously  of  Colonel  Bung,  President  of  the  Bungfield  Bail- 
road  Co. — the  Colonel  didn't  believe  in  anything;  so  he 


A   DIVIDEND  AT  LAST.  379 

saved  all  his  money,  and  Joe  wished  he  had  some  of  the 
Colonel's  courage. 

Joe's  meditations  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
Sam  Ottrey,  a  poor  fellow  who  owed  Joe  some  money.  Joe 
had  lent  Sam  a  hundred  dollars,  discounted  ten  per  cent, 
for  ninety  days,  and  secured  by  a  chattel  mortgage  on  Sam's 
horse  and  wagon.  But  Sam  had  been  sick  during  most  of 
the  ninety  days,  and  when  he  went  to  Joe  to  beg  a  few  days 
of  grace,  that  exemplary  business  man  insisted  upon  imme- 
diate payment. 

It  was  easy  to  see  by  Sam's  hopeless  eye  and  strained 
features  that  he  had  not  come  to  pay — he  was  staring  ruin 
in  the  face,  and  felt  as  uncomfortable  as  if  the  amount  were 
millions  instead  of  a  horse  and  wagon,  his  only  means  of 
support.  As  for  Joe,  he  had  got  that  hundred  dollars  and 
horse  and  wagon  mixed  up  in  the  oddest  way  with  what  he 
and  his  partner  had  been  talking  about.  It  was  utterly  un- 
business-like — he  knew  it — he  tried  to  make  business 
business,  and  religion  religion,  but,  try  as  he  might,  he 
could  not  succeed.  Joe  thought  briskly;  he  determined 
to  try  an  experiment. 

"Sam,"  said  he,  "got  the  money  ?" 

"No,"  Sam  replied;  "luck's  agin  me — I've  got  to  stand 
it,  I  suppose." 

"  Sam,"  said  Joe,  "  I'll  give  you  all  the  time  you  need, 
at  legal  interest." 

Sam  was  not  such  a  young  man  as  sentimental  people 
would  select  to  try  good  deeds  upon.  But  he  was  human, 
and  loved  his  wife  and  children,  and  the  sudden  relief  he 
felt  caused  him  to  look  at  Joe  in  a  manner  which  made  Joe 
find  a  couple  of  entire  strangers  in  his  own  eyes.  He 
hurried  into  the  little  office,  and  when  his  partner  looked 
up  inquiringly,  Joe  replied  : 

"  I've  got  a  dividend,  Squire — one  of  those  we  were 
talking  about." 

"How's  that?"  asked  the  old  man,  while  Joe  commenced 
writing  rapidly. 


380  OTHER  DIVIDENDS   SELDOM  DECLARED. 

"  I'll  show  you,"  said  Joe,  handing  the  Squire  the  paper 
on  which  he  has  just  put  in  writing  his  promise  to  Sam. 

"  Joseph,"  said  the  Squire,  after  reading  the  paper 
several  times,  to  assure  himself  that  his  eyes  did  not  de- 
ceive him,  "  it  beats  the  widow's  mites ;  she  gave  the  Lord 
all  she  had,  but  you've  given  Him  more  than  you  ever  had 
in  all  your  life  until  to-day." 

Joe  handed  Sam  the  paper,  and  it  was  to  the  teamster 
the  strongest  evidence  of  Christianity  he  had  ever  seen  in 
Bungfield.  He  had  known  of  some  hard  cases  turning  from 
the  saloon  and  joining  the  church,  but  none  of  these  things 
were  so  wonderful  as  this  action  of  Joe  Gatter's.  Sam  told 
the  story,  in  strict  confidence,  to  each  of  his  friends,  and 
the  good  seed  was  thus  sown  in  soil  that  it  had  never 
reached  before. 

It  would  be  pleasant  to  relate  that  Joe  forthwith  ceased 
shaving  notes  and  selling  antiquated  grease  for  butter,  and 
that  he  devoted  the  rest  of  his  days  and  money  to  good 
deeds,  but  it  wouldn't  be  true.  Those  of  our  readers  who 
have  always  consistently  acted  according  to  their  own  light 
and  knowledge  are,  of  course,  entitled  to  throw  stones  at 
Joe  Gatter ;  but  most  of  us  know  to  our  sorrow  why  he 
didn't  always  act  according  to  the  good  promptings  he  re- 
ceived. Our  only  remaining  duty  is  to  say  that  when,  there- 
after, Joe's  dividends  came  seldom,  he  knew  who  to  blame. 


THE  TEMPERANCE  MEETING  AT  BACKLEY. 

T  OUD  and  long  rang  the  single  church-bell  at  Backley, 
1 1  but  its  industry  was  entirely  unnecessary,  for  the  sin- 
gle church  at  Backley  was  already  full  from  the  altar  to  the 
doors,  and  the  window-sills  and  altar-steps  were  crowded 
with  children.  The  Backleyites  had  been  before  to  the  regu- 
lar yearly  temperance  meetings,  and  knew  too  well  the  rel- 
ative merits  of  sitting  and  standing  to  wait  until  called  by 
the  bell.  Of  course  no  one  could  afford  to  be  absent,  for 
entertainments  were  entirely  infrequent  at  Backley ;  the 
populace  was  too  small  to  support  a  course  of  lectures,  and 
too  moral  to  give  any  encouragement  to  circuses  and  min- 
strel troupes,  but  a  temperance  meeting  was  both  moral 
and  cheap,  and  the  children  might  all  be  taken  without  ex- 
tra cost. 

For  months  all  the  young  men  and  maidens  at  Backley 
had  been  practising  the  choruses  of  the  songs  which  the 
Temperance  Glee  Club  at  a  neighboring  town  was  to  sing 
at  the  meeting.  For  weeks  had  large  posters,  printed  in 
the  reddest  of  ink,  announced  to  the  surrounding  country 
that  the  parent  society  would  send  to  Backley,  for  this  es- 
pecial occasion,  one  of  its  most  brilliant  orators,  and  aj- 
though  the  pastor  made  the  statement  (in  the  smallest  pos- 
sible type)  that  at  the  close  of  the  entertainment  a  collec- 
tion would  be  taken  to  defray  expenses  of  the  lecturer,  the 
sorrowing  ones  took  comfort  in  the  fact  that  certain  frac- 
tional currency  represented  but  a  small  amount  of  money. 
The  bell  ceased  ringing,  and  the  crowd  at  the  door 

381 


382  AN  ORTHODOX  SPEECH. 

attempted  to  squeeze  into  the  aisles ;  the  Backley  Cornet 
Quartette  played  a  stirring  air;  Squire  Breet  called  the 
meeting  to  order,  and  was  himself  elected  permanent  Chair- 
man ;  the  Reverend  Mr.  Genial  prayed  earnestly  that  in- 
temperance might  cease  to  reign;  the  Glee  Club  sang  seve- 
ral songs,  with  rousing  choruses ;  a  pretended  drunkard 
and  a  cold  water  advocate  (both  pupils  of  the  Backley  High 
School),  delivered  a  dialogue  in  which  the  pretended  drunk- 
ard was  handled  severely;  a  tableau  of  " The  Drunkard's 
Home  "  was  given ;  and  then  the  parent  society's  brilliant 
orator  took  the  platform. 

The  orator  was  certainly  very  well  informed,  logical  and 
convincing,  besides  being  quite  witty.  He  proved  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all  present  that  alcohol  was  not  nutritious  ; 
that  it  awakened  a  general  and  unhealthy  physical  excite- 
ment ;  and  that  it  hardened  the  tissues  of  the  brain.  He 
proved  by  reports  of  analyses,  that  adulteration,  and  with 
harmful  materials,  was  largely  practiced.  He  quoted  from 
reports  of  police,  prison  and  almshouse  authorities,  to 
prove  his  statement  that  alcohol  made  most  of  our  criminals. 
He  unrolled  a  formidable  array  of  statistics,  and  showed 
how  many  loaves  of  bread  could  be  bought  with  the  money 
expended  in  the  United  States  for  intoxicating  liquors ;  how 
many  comfortable  houses  the  same  money  would  build ; 
how  many  schools  it  would  support ;  and  how  soon  it  would 
pay  the  National  Debt. 

Then  he  drew  a  moving  picture  of  the  sorrow  of  the 
drunkard's  family  and  the  awfulness  of  the  drunkard's 
death,  and  sat  down  amid  a  perfect  thunder  of  applause. 

The  faithful  beamed  upon  each  other  with  glowing  and 
expressive  countenances;  the  Cornet  Quartette  played 
"Don't  you  go,  Tommy";  the  smallest  young  lady  sang 
"  Father,  clear  father,  come  Home  with  me  Now  ";  and  then 
Squire  Breet,  the  Chairman,  announced  that  the  meeting 
was  open  for  remarks. 

A  derisive  laugh  from  some  of  the  half-grown  boys,  and 
a  titter  from  some  of  the  misses,  attracted  the  attention  of 


JOE  DIGG  SPEAKS.  383 

the  audience,  and  looking  round  they  saw  Joe  Digg  stand- 
ing up  in  a  pew  near  the  door. 

"Put  him  out!"  "It's  a  shame!"  " Disgraceful !"  were 
some  of  the  cries  which  were  heard  in  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Digg  is  a  citizen  of  Backley,"  said  the  Chairman, 
rapping  vigorously  to  call  the  audience  to  order,  "and 
though  not  a  member  of  the  Association,  he  is  entitled  to  a 
hearing." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Joe  Digg,  when  quiet 
was  restored  ;  "  your  words  are  the  first  respectful  ones  I've 
ever  heard  in  Backley,  an'  I  do  assure  you  I  appreciate  'em. 
But  I  want  the  audience  to  understand  I  ain't  drunk — I 
haven't  had  a  cent  for  two  days,  an'  nobody's  treated  me." 

By  this  time  the  audience  was  very  quiet,  but  in  a  deli- 
cious fever  of  excitement.  A  drunkard  speaking  right  out 
in  a  temperance  meeting ! — they  had  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing  in  their  lives.  Verily,  Backley  was  going  to  add  one 
to  the  roll  of  modest  villages  made  famous  by  unusual  oc- 
currences. 

"I  'spose,  Mr.  Chairman,"  continued  Joe  Digg,  "that 
the  pint  of  temp'rance  meetin's  is  to  stop  drunkenness,  an' 
as  I'm  about  the  only  fully  developed  drunkard  in  town, 
I'm  most  likely  to  know  what  this  meetin's  'mounted  to." 

Squire  Breet  inclined  his  head  slightly,  as  if  to  admit 
the  correctness  of  Joe  Digg's  position. 

"  I  believe  ev'ry  word  the  gentleman  has  said,"  continu- 
ed the  drunkard,  "  and  " — here  he  paused  long  enough  to 
let  an  excitable  member  exclaim  "  Bless  the  Lord !"  and 
burst  into  tears — "  and  he  could  have  put  it  all  a  good  deal 
stronger  without  stretchin'  the  truth.  An'  the  sorrer  of  a 
drunkard's  home  can  be  talked  about  'till  the  Dictionary 
runs  dry,  an'  then  ye  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  it.  But 
hain't  none  of  ye  ever  laughed  'bout  lockin'  the  stable  door 
after  the  hoss  is  stolen  ?  That's  just  what  this  temp'rance 
meetin'  an'  all  the  others  comes  to." 

A  general  and  rather  indignant  murmur  of  dissent  ran 
through  the  audience. 


384  WHY   SOME  FOLKS  DKINK. 

"Ye  don't  believe  it,"  continued  Joe  Digg,  "but  I've 
been  a  drunkard,  an'  I'm  one  yet,  an'  ye  all  got  sense  enough 
to  understan'  that  I  ort  to  know  best  about  it." 

"Will  the  gentleman  have  the  kindness  to  explain?" 
asked  the  lecturer. 

"I'm  a  com  in'  to  it,  sir,  ef  my  head  '11  see  me  through," 
replied  the  drunkard.  "  You  folks  all  b'leeve  that  its  lovin' 
liquor  that  makes  men  drink  it ;  now,  'taint  no  sech  thing. 
I  never  had  a  chance  to  taste  fancy  drinks,  but  I  know  that 
every  kind  of  liquor  /  ever  got  hold  of  was  more  like  medi- 
cine than  anything  nice." 

"  Then  what  do  they  drink  for  ?"  demanded  the  excitable 
member. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Joe,  "  if  you'll  have  a  little  patience. 
I  have  to  do  it  in  my  own  way,  for  I  ain't  used  to  public 
speakin'.  You  all  know  who  I  am.  My  father  was  a  church- 
member,  an'  so  was  mother.  Father  done  day's  work,  fur  a 
dollar'n  a  quarter  a  day.  How  much  firewood  an'  clothes 
an'  food  d'ye  suppose  that  money  could  pay  for  ?  We  had 
to  eat  what  come  cheapest,  an'  when  some  of  the  women 
here  wuz  a  sittin'  comfortable  o'  nights,  a  knittin'  an'  sewin' 
an'  readin',  mother  wuz  hangin'  aroun'  the  butcher  shop, 
tryin'  to  beat  the  butcher  down  on  the  scraps  that  wasn't 
good  enough  for  you  folks.  Soon  as  we  young  'uns  was  big 
enough  to  do  anything  we  wuz  put  to  work.  I've  worked 
for  men  in  this  room  twelve  an'  fourteen  hours  a  day.  I 
don't  blame  'em — they  didn't  mean  nothin'  out  of  the  way — 
they  worked  just  as  long  'emselves,  an'  so  did  their  boys. 
But  they  allers  had  somethin'  inside  to  keep  'em  up,  an'  I 
didn't.  Does  anybody  wonder  that  when  I  harvested  Tyith 
some  men  that  kep'  liquor  in  the  field,  an'  found  how  it 
helped  me  along,  that  I  took  it,  an'  thought  'twas  a  reg'lar 
God's-blessin'  ?  An'  when  I  foun'  'twas  a-hurtin'  me,  how 
was  I  to  go  to  work  an'  giv'  it  up,  when  it  stood  me  in- 
stead of  the  eatables  I  didn't  have,  an'  never  had,  neither  ?" 

"You  should  hev  prayed,"  cried  old  Deacon  Towser, 
springing  to  his  feet ;  "  prayed  long  an'  earnest." 


THE  TEMPEKANCE  MEETING. 


385 


.ATTRACTIVE  BAR-KOOMS.  387 

"  Deacon,"  said  Joe  Digg,  "  I've  heerd  of  your  dyspepsy 
for  nigh  on  to  twenty  year ;  did  prayin'  ever  comfort  your 
stomach?" 

The  whole  audience  indulged  in  a  profane  laugh,  and  the 
good  deacon  was  suddenly  hauled  down  by  his  wife.  The 
drunkard  continued : 

"  There's  lots  of  jest  sech  folks,  here  in  Backley,  an'  ev'ry 
where' s  else — people  that  don't  get  half  fed,  an'  do  get 
worked  half  to  death.  Nobody  means  to  'buse  'em,  but  they 
do  hev  a  hard  time  of  it,  an'  whisky's  the  best  friend  they've 
got." 

"  I  work  my  men  from  sunrise  to  sunset  in  summer,  my- 
self," said  Deacon  Towser,  jumping  up  again,  "  an'  I'm  the 
first  man  in  the  field,  an'  the  last  man  to  quit.  But  I  don't 
drink  no  liquor,  an'  my  boys  don't,  neither." 

"But  ye  don't  start  in  the  mornin'  with  hungry  little 
faces  a  hauntin'  ye — ye  don't  take  the  dry  crusts  to  the 
field  for  yer  own  dinner,  an'  leave  the  meat  an'  butter  at 
home  for  the  wife  an'  young  'uns.  An'  ye  go  home  without 
bein'  afeard  to  see  a  half-fed  wife  draggin'  herself  aroun' 
among  a  lot  of  puny  young  'uns  that  don't  know  what's  the 
matter  with  'em.  Jesus  Christ  hissef  broke  down  when  it 
come  to  the  cross,  deac'n,  an'  poor  human  bein's  some- 
times reaches  a  pint  where  they  can't  stan'  no  more,  an' 
when  its  wife  an'  children  that  brings  it  on,  it  gits  a  man 
awful." 

"The  gentleman  is  right,  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  the 
Chairman,  "  so  far  as  a  limited  class  is  concerned,  but  of 
course  no  such  line  of  argument  applies  to  the  majority  of 
cases.  There  are  plenty  of  well-fed,  healthy,  and  lazy  young 
men  hanging  about  the  tavern  in  this  very  village." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Joe  Digg,  "  an'  I  want  to  talk  about 
them  too.  I  don't  wan't  to  take  up  all  the  time  of  this 
meetin',  but  you'll  all  'low  I  know  more  'bout  that  tavern 
than  any  body  else  does.  Ther'  is  lots  of  young  men  a 
hanging  aroun'  it,  an'  why — 'cos  it's  made  pleasant  for  'em, 
an'  it's  the  only  place  in  town  that  is.  I've  been  a  faithful 


388  WHERE  ARE  THEY  TO  FLEE? 

attendant  at  that  tavern  for  nigh  onto  twenty  year,  an'  I 
never  knowed  a  hanger-on  there  that  had  a  comfortable 
home  of  his  own.  Some  of  them  that  don't  hev  to  go  to  bed 
hungry  hev  scoldin'  or  squabblin'  parents,  an'  they  can't  go 
a  visitin'  an'  hear  fine  music,  an'  see  nice  things  of  every 
sort  to  take  their  minds  off,  as  some  young  men  in  this 
meetin'  house  can.  But  the  tavern  is  allus  comfortable,  an' 
ther's  generally  somebody  to  sing  a  song  and  tell  a  joke,  an' 
they  commence  goin'  ther'  more  fur  a  pleasant  time  than 
for  a  drink,  at  fust.  Ther's  lots  of  likely  boys  goin'  there 
that  I  wish  to  God  'd  stay  away,  an'  I've  often  felt  like 
tellin'  'em  so,  but  what's  the  use  ?  Where  are  they  to  go  to  ?" 

"  They  ort  to  flee  from  even  the  appearance  of  evil,"  said 
Deacon  Towser. 

"But  where  be  they  to  flee  to,  Deac'n?"  persisted  Joe 
Digg;  "would  you  like  'em  to  come  a  visitin'  to  your 
house?" 

"  They  can  come  to  the  church  meetings,"  replied  the 
Deacon ;  "  there's  two  in  the  week,  besides  Sundays,  an' 
some  of  'em's  precious  seasons — all  of  'em's  an  improvement 
on  the  wicked  tavern." 

"  'Ligion  don't  taste  no  better'n  whiskey,  tell  you  get 
used  to  it,"  said  the  drunkard,  horrifying  all  the  orthodox 
people  at  Backley,  "  an'  taint  made  half  so  invitin'.  'Taint 
long  ago  I  heerd  ye  tellin'  another  deacon  that  the  church- 
members  ort  to  be  'shamed  of  'emselves,  'cos  sca'cely  any 
of  'em  come  to  the  week-evenin'  meetin's,  so  ye  can't  blame 
the  boys  at  the  tavern." 

"  Does  the  gentleman  mean  to  convey  the  idea  that  all 
drunkards  become  so  from  justifying  causes  ?"  asked  the 
lecturer. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Joe  Digg,  "  but  I  do  mean  to  say  that 
after  you  leave  out  them  that  takes  liquor  to  help  'em  do  a 
full  day's  work,  an'  them  that  commence  drinkin'  'cos  they're 
at  the  tavern,  an'  ain't  got  no  where's  else  to  go,  you've 
made  a  mighty  big  hole  in  the  crowd  of  drinkin'-men — big- 
ger'n  temperance  mee tins'  ever  begin  to  make  yit" 


THE   REMEDY.  389 

"But  how  are  they  to  be  'left  out'?"  asked  the  lec- 
turer. 

"By  temp'rance  folks  doin'  somethin'  beside  talkin'," 
replied  the  drunkard.  "  For  twenty  year  I've  been  lectured 
and  scolded,  an'  some  good  men's  come  to  me  with  tears  in 
their  eyes,  and  put  their  arms  'roun'  my  neck,  an'  begged 
me  to  stop  drinkin'.  An'  I've  wanted  to,  an'  tried  to,  but 
when  all  the  encouragement  a  man  gits  is  in  words,  an'  no 
matter  how  he  commenced  drinkin',  now  ev'ry  bone  an'  mus- 
cle in  him  is  a  beggin'  fur  drink  ez  soon  as  he  leaves  off,  an* 
his  mind's  dull,  an'  he  ain't  fit  fur  much,  an'  needs  takin' 
care  of  as  p'tic'ler  ez  a  mighty  sick  man,  talk's  jist  as  good 
ez  wasted.  Ther's  been  times  when  ef  I'd  been  ahead  on 
flour  an'  meat  an'  sich,  I  could  a'  stopped  drinkin',  but  when 
a  man's  hungry,  an'  ragged,  an'  weak,  and  half-crazy, 
knowin'  how  his  family's  fixed  an  he  can't  do  nothin'  fur 
'em,  an'  then  don't  get  nothin'  but  words  to  reform  on,  he'll 
go  back  to  the  tavern  ev'ry  time,  an'  he'll  drink  till  he's 
comfortable  an'  till  he  forgits.  I  want  the  people  here,  one 
an'  all,  to  understand  that  though  I'm  past  helpin'  now,  ther's 
been  fifty  times  in  the  last  twenty  year  when  I  might  hed 
been  stopped  short,  ef  any  body'd  been  sensible  enough  and 
good-hearted  enough  to  give  me  a  lift." 

Joe  Digg  sat  down,  and  there  was  a  long  pause.  The 
Chairman  whispered  to  the  leader  of  the  Glee  Club,  and 
the  club  sang  a  song,  but  somehow  it  failed  to  awaken  the 
usual  enthusiasm.  After  the  singing  had  ended,  the  Chair- 
man himself  took  the  floor  and  moved  the  appointment  of  a 
permanent  committee  to  look  after  the  intemperate,  and  to 
collect  funds  when  the  use  of  money  seemed  necessary,  and 
the  village  doctor  created  a  sensation  by  moving  that  Mr. 
Joe  Digg  should  be  a  member  of  the  committee.  Deacon 
Towser,  who  was  the  richest  man  in  the  village,  and  who 
dreaded  subscription  papers,  started  an  insidious  opposi- 
tion by  eloquently  vaunting  the  value  of  earnest  prayer  and 
of  determined  will,  in  such  cases,  but  the  new  member 
of  the  committee  (though  manifestly  out  of  order)  outman- 


390  FKUITS  OF   THE  SPEECH. 

oeuvred  the  Deacon  by  accepting  both  amendments,  and  re- 
marking that  in  a  hard  fight  folks  would  take  all  the  help 
they  could  get. 

Somehow,  as  soon  as  the  new  committee — determining 
to  open  a  place  of  entertainment  in  opposition  to  the  tavern, 
and  furnish  it  pleasantly,  and  make  it  an  attractive  gather- 
ing-place for  young  men — asked  for  contributions  to  enable 
them  to  do  it,  the  temperance  excitement  at  Backley  abated 
marvelously.  But  Squire  Breet,  and  the  doctor,  and  several 
other  enterprising  man,  took  the  entire  burden  on  their  own 
shoulders — or  pockets — and  Joe  Digg  was  as  useful  as  a 
reformed  thief  to  a  police  department.  For  the  doctor, 
whose  professional  education  had  left  him  a  large  portion 
of  his  natural  common-sense  in  working  order,  took  a  prac- 
tical interest  in  the  old  drunkard's  case,  and  others  of  the 
committee  looked  to  the  necessities  of  his  family,  and  it 
came  to  pass  that  Joe  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  reform- 
ers. Men  still  go  to  the  tavern  at  Backley,  but  as,  even 
when  the  twelve  spake  with  inspired  tongues,  some  people 
remained  impenitent,  the  temperance  men  at  Backley  feel 
that  they  have  great  cause  for  encouragement,  and  that 
they  have,  at  least,  accomplished  more  within  a  few  months 
than  did  all  the  temperance  meetings  ever  held  in  their 
village. 


JUDE. 

r\  OPHEE  HILL  had  determined  that  it  could  not  endure 
\J     Jude  any  longer. 

The  inhabitants  of  Gopher  Hill  possessed  an  unusual 
amount  of  kindness  and  long-suffering,  as  was  proved  by 
the  fact  that  Chinamen  were  allowed  to  work  all  abandoned 
claims  at  the  Hill.  Had  further  proof  been  necessary, 
it  would  have  been  afforded  by  the  existence  of  a  church 
directly  beside  the  saloon,  although  the  frequenters  of  the 
sacred  edifice  had  often,  during  week-evening  meetings,  an- 
noyed convivial  souls  in  the  saloon  by  requesting  them  to 
be  less  noisy. 

But  Jude  was  too  much  for  Gopher  Hill.  No  one  mo- 
lested him  when  he  first  appeared,  but  each  citizen  entered 
a  mental  protest  within  his  own  individual  consciousness ; 
for  Jude  had  a  bad  reputation  in  most  of  the  settlements 
along  Spanish  Creek. 

It  was  not  that  he  had  killed  his  man,  and  stolen  several 
horses  and  mules,  and  got  himself  into  a  state  of  most  dis- 
orderly inebriation,  for,  in  the  opinion  of  many  Gopher 
Hillites,  these  actions  might  have  been  the  visible  results  of 
certain  virtuous  conditions  of  mind. 

But  Jude  had,  after  killing  a  manr  spent  the  victim's 
money  ;  he  had  stolen  from  men  who  had  befriended  him ; 
he  had  jumped  claims  ;  he  had  denied  his  score  at  the  store- 
keeper's ;  he  had  lied  on  all  possible  occasions ;  and  had 
gambled  away  money  which  had  been  confided  to  him  in 
trust. 

391 


392  JUDE,    FOR   SHOKT. 

One  mining  camp  after  another  had  become  too  hot  for 
him  ;  but  he  never  adopted  a  new  set  of  principles  when  he 
staked  a  new  claim,  so  his  stay  in  new  localities  was  never 
of  sufficient  length  to  establish  the  fact  of  legal  residence. 
His  name  seemed  to  be  a  respectable  cognomen  of  Scrip- 
tural extraction,  but  it  was  really  a  contraction  of  a  name 
which,  while  equally  Scriptural  and  far  more  famous,  was 
decidedly  unpopular — the  name  of  Judas  Iscariot. 

The  whole  name  had  been  originally  bestowed  upon 
Jude,  in  recognition  of  his  success  in  swindling  a  mining 
partner ;  but,  with  an  acuteness  of  perception  worthy  of  em- 
ulation, the*  miners  determined  that  the  length  of  the 
appellation  detracted  from  its  force,  so  they  shortened 
it  to  Jude. 

As  a  few  of  the  more  enterprising  citizens  of  Gopher 
Hill  were  one  morning  discussing  the  desirableness  of  get- 
ting rid  of  Jude,  and  wondering  how  best  to  effect  such  a 
result,  they  received  important  foreign  aid. 

A  man  rode  up  to  the  saloon,  dismounted,  and  tacked  on 
the  wall  a  poster  offering  one  thousand  dollars  reward  for 
the  apprehension  of  a  certain  person  who  had  committed 
an  atrocious  murder  a  month  before  at  Duck  Run. 

The  names  and  aliases  of  the  guilty  person  were  unfa- 
miliar to  those  who  gathered  about  the  poster,  but  the  des- 
cription of  the  murderer's  appearance  was  so  suggestive, 
that  Squire  Bogern,  one  of  the  bystanders,  found  Jude,  and 
requested  him  to  read  the  poster. 

"  Well,  'twasn't  me  done  it,"  sulkily  growled  the  name- 
sake of  the  apostolic  treasurer. 

"  Ther'  hain't  nobody  in  Gopher  that  'ud  take  a  feller  up 
fur  a  reward,"  replied  the  squire,  studiously  oblivious  of 
Jude's  denial;  "  but  it's  a  nice  mornin'  fur  a  walk.  Ye  can't 
miss  the  trail  an'  git  lost,  ye  know.  An',  seein'  yer  hevn't 
staked  any  claim,  an'  so  hain't  got  any  to  dispose  of,  mebbe 
yer  could  git,  inside  of  five  minutes." 

Jude  was  accustomed  to  "  notices  to  quit,"  and  was  able 
to  extract  their  import  from  any  verbiage  whatever,  so  he 


THE  POSTEK  AHEAD.  393 

drank  by  and  to  himself,  and  immediately  sauntered  out  of 
town,  with  an  air  of  bravado  in  his  carriage,  and  a  very 
lonesome  look  in  his  face. 

Down  the  trail  he  tramped,  past  claims  whose  occupants 
knew  him  well  enough,  but  who,  just  as  he  passed,  found 
some  excuse  for  looking  the  other  way. 

He  passed  through  one  camp  after  another,  and  discov- 
ered (for  he  stopped  at  each  saloon)  that  the  man  on  horse- 
back had  preceded  him,  and  that  there  seemed  a  wonderful 
unanimity  of  opinion  as  to  the  identity  of  the  man  who  was 
wanted. 

Finally,  after  passing  through  several  of  the  small  camps, 
which  were  dotted  along  the  trail,  a  mile  or  two  apart,  Jude 
flung  himself  on  the  ground  under  a  clump  of  azaleas, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  whose  temper  had  been  somewhat 
ruffled. 

"I  wonder,"  he  remarked,  after  a  discursive,  fitful,  but 
very  spicy  preface  of  ten  minutes'  duration,  "why  they 
couldn't  find  somethin'  I  hed  done,  instead  of  tuckin'  some 
other  feller's  job  on  me  ?  I  liev  had  difficulties,  but  this  here 
one's  just  one  more  than  /  knows  on.  Like  'nuff  some 
galoot'll  be  mean  'nun0  to  try  to  git  that  thousand.  I'd  try 
it  myself,  ef  I  wuz  only  somebody  else.  "Wonder  why  I 
can't  be  decent,  like  other  fellers.  'Twon't  pay  to  waste 
time  thinkin'  'bout  that,  though,  fur  I'll  hev  to  make  a  livin1 
somehow." 

Jude  indulged  in  a  long  sigh,  perhaps  a  penitential  one, 
and  drew  from  his  pocket  a  well-filled  flask,  which  he  had 
purchased  at  the  last  saloon  he  had  passed.  • 

As  he  extracted  it,  there  came  also  from  his  pocket  a 
copy  of  the  poster,  which  he  had  abstracted  from  a  tree  en 
route. 

"Thar  'tis  again!"  he  exclaimed,  angrily.  "Can't  be 
satisfied  showin'  itself  ev'rywhar,  but  must  come  out  of 
my  pocket  without  bein'  axed.  Let's  see,  p'r'aps  it  don't 
mean  me,  after  all — '  One  eye  gone,  broken  nose,  scar  on 
right  cheek,  powder-marks  on  left,  stumpy  beard,  sallow 


394  A  WOMAN'S  GEY. 

complexion,  hangdog  look.'  Td  give  a  thousand  ef  I  had 
it  to  git  the  feller  that  writ  that ;  an'  yit  it  means  me,  an' 
no  dodgin'.  Lord,  Lord !  what  'ud  the  old  woman  say  ef 
she  wuz  to  see  me  nowadays?" 

He  looked  intently  at  the  flask  for  a  moment  or  two,  a& 
if  expecting~an  answer  therefrom,  then  he  extracted  the 
cork,  and  took  a  generous  drink.  But  even  the  liquor  fail- 
ed to  help  him  to  a  more  cheerful  view  of  the  situation,  for 
he  continued : 

"Nobody  knows  me  —  nobody  sez,  '  Hello!' — nobody 
axes  me  to  name  my  bitters — nobody  even  cusses  me. 
They  let  me  stake  a  claim,  but  nobody  offers  to  lend  me  a 
pick  or  a  shovel,  an'  nobody  ever  comes  to  the  shanty  to 
spend  the  evenin',  'less  it's  a  greenhorn.  Curse  'em  all  1 
I'll  make  some  of  'em  bleed  fur  it.  I'll  git  their  dust,  an' 
go  back  East ;  ther's  plenty  of  folks  thar  that'll  be  glad  to 
see  me,  ef  I've  got  the  dust.  An'  mebbe  'twould  comfort 
the  old  woman  some,  after  all  the  trouble  I've  made  her. 
Offer  rewards  fur  me,  do  they?  I'll  give  'em  some  reason  to 

do  it.  I  haint  afeard  of  the  hull  State  of  Californy,  an' 

Good  Lord  !  what's  that  ?" 

The  gentleman  who  was  not  afraid  of  the  whole  State  of 
California  sprang  hastily  to  his  feet,  turned  very  pale,  and 
felt  for  his  revolver,  for  he  heard  rapid  footsteps  approach- 
ing by  a  little  path  in  the  bushes. 

But  though  the  footsteps  seemed  to  come  nearer,  and 
very  rapidly,  he  slowly  took  his  hand  from  his  pistol,  and 
changed  his  scared  look  for  a  puzzled  one. 

"  Cryin' !  Beckon  I  ain't  in  danger  from  anybody  that's 
bellerin' ;  but  it's  the  fust  time  I've  heerd  that  kind  of  a 
noise  in  these  parts.  Must  be  a  woman.  Sounds  like  what 
I  used  to  hear  to  home  when  I  got  on  a  tear;  'tis  a 
woman '" 

As  he  concluded,  there  emerged  from  the  path  a  woman, 
who  was  neither  very  young  nor  very  pretty,  but  her  face 
was  full  of  pain,  and  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  which  signs  of 
sorrow  were  augmented  by  a  considerable  scare,  as  she 


GET  HIM — GET  JOHNNY  !"  CRIED  TII3  WOMAN,  FALUN'S  ON 
SEIZING  JUDE'S  HANI>. 


HEK  KNEES, 


396 


HEMEDY  FOE  A  WIFE'S  TEAKS.  397 

suddenly  found  herself  face  to  face  with  the  unhandsome 
Jude. 

"  Don't  be  afeard  of  me,  marm,"  said  Jude,  as  the  woman 
retreated  a  step  or  two.  "  I'm  durned  sorry  for  yer,  what- 
ever's  the  matter.  I've  got  a  wife  to  home,  an'  it  makes  me 
so  sorry  to  hear  her  cry,  that  I  get  blind  drunk  ez  quick  ez  I 
ken."  " 

This  tender  statement  seemed  to  reassure  the  woman, 
for  she  looked  inquiringly  at  Jude,  and  asked : 

"  Have  ye  seen  a  man  and  woman  go  'long  with  a  young 
one? 

"  Nary,"  replied  Jude.     "  Young  one  lost  ?" 

"  Yes !"  exclaimed  the  woman,  commencing  to  cry  again ; 
"  an'  a  husban',  too.  I  don't  care  much  for  him,  for  he's  a 
brute,  but  Johnny — blessed  little  Johnny — oh,  oh  !" 

And  the  poor  woman  sobbed  pitifully. 

Jude  looked  uneasy,  and  remembering  his  antidote  for 
domestic  tears,  extracted  the  bottle  again.  He  slowly  put 
it  back  untasted,  however,  and  exclaimed : 

"  What  does  he  look  like,  marm  ? — the  husband  I  mean. 
I  never  wanted  an  excuse  to  put  a  hole  through  a  feller  ez 
bad  ez  I  do  this  mornin' !" 

" Don't — don't  hurt  him,  for  God's  sake!"  cried  the 
woman.  "  He  ain't  a  good  husband — he's  run  off  with 
another  woman,  but — but  he's  Johnny's  father.  Yet,  if  you 
could  get  Johnny  back — he's  the  only  comfort  I  ever  had  in 
the  world,  the  dear  little  fellow — oh,  dear  me  !" 

And  again  she  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  was  broken. 

"  Tell  us  'bout  'em.  "Whar  hev  they  gone  to  ?  what  do 
they  luk  like?  Mebbe  I  ken  git  him  fur  yer,"  said  Jude, 
looking  as  if  inclined  to  beat  a  retreat, 'or  do  anything  to 
get  away  from  the  sound  of  the  woman's  crying. 

"  Get  him — get  Johnny  ?"  cried  the  woman,  falling  on 
her  knees,  and  seizing  Jude's  hand.  "I  can't  give  you  any- 
thing for  doin'  it,  but  I'll  pray  for  you,  as  long  as  I've  got 
breath,  that  God  may  reward  you !" 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Jude,  as  he  awkwardly  disengaged  his 


398  GONE  TO  GET  JOHNNY 

hand,  "  that  prayin'  is  what'll  do  me  more  good  than  any- 
thin'  else  jest  now.  Big  feller  is  yer  husband  ?  An'  got  any 
idee  whar  he  is  ?" 

"  He  is  a  big  man,"  replied  the  woman,  "  and  he  goes  by 
the  name  of  Marksey  in  these  parts ;  and  you'll  find  him  at 
the  Widow  Beckel's,  across  the  creek.  Kill  Aerif  you  like 
— I  hope  somebody  will.  But  Johnny — Johnny  has  got  the 
loveliest  brown  eyes,  and  the  sweetest  mouth  that  was  ever 
made,  and — 

"  Beckon  I'll  judge  fur  myself,"  interrupted  Jude,  start- 
ing off  toward  the  creek,  and  followed  by  the  woman.  "  I 
know  whar  Wider  Beckel's  is,  an' — an'  I've  done  enough 
stealin',  I  guess,  to  be  able  to  grab  a  little  boy  without  git- 
tin'  ketched.  Spanish  Crick's  purty  deep  along  here,  an' 
the  current  runs  heavy,  but — 

The  remainder  of  Jude's  sentence  was  left  unspoken,  for 
just  then  he  stepped  into  the  creek,  and  the  chill  of  the 
snow-fed  stream  caused  him  to  hold  his  breath. 

"  Remember  youaint  to  hurt  him  /"  screamed  the  woman ; 
•"  nor  her,  neither — God  forgive  me.  But  bring  Johnny — 
bring  Johnny,  and  God  be  with  you." 

The  woman  stood  with  clasped  hands  watching  Jude 
until  he  reached  the  opposite  bank,  shook  himself,  and  dis- 
appeared, and  then  she  leaned  against  a  tree  and  trembled 
and  cried  until  she  was  startled  by  hearing  some  one  say : 

"Beg  pardon,  madame,  but  have  you  seen  any  one 
pass  ?" 

The  woman  raised  her  head,  and  saw  a  respectable, 
•severe  looking  man,  in  clothing  rather  neater  than  was 
common  along  Spanish  Creek. 

"  Only  one,"  she  replied,  "  and  he's  the  best  man  livin'. 
He's  gone  to  get  Johnny — he  won't  be  gone  long." 

"Your  husband,  ma'am?" 

'*  Oh,  no,  sir ;  I  never  saw  him  before." 

"  One  eye  gone ;  broken  nose  ;  scar  on  right  cheek ;  pow- 
der-marks on  left 

"Yes,  sir,  that's  the  man,"  said  the  wondering  woman. 


THE  POSTER  AGAIN  TURNS  UP.  399 

"Perhaps  you  may  not  have  seen  this?"  said  the  man 
handing  her  one  of  the  posters  describing  Jude. 

Then  he  uttered  a  shrill  whistle. 

The  woman  read  the  paper  through,  and  cried : 

"  It's  somebody  else — it  must  be — no  murderer  would  be 
so  kind  to  a  poor,  friendless  woman.  Oh,  God,  have  I 
betrayed  him  ?  Dont  take  him,  sir — it  must  be  somebody 
else.  I  wish  I  had  money — I  would  pay  you  more  than  the 
reward,  just  to  go  away  and  let  him  alone." 

"  Madame,"  replied  the  man,  beckoning  to  two  men  who 
were  approaching,  "  I  could  not  accept  it ;  nor  will  I  accept 
the  reward.  It  is  the  price  of  blood.  But  I  am  a  minister 
of  the  gospel,  ma'am,  and  in  this  godless  generation  it 
is  my  duty  to  see  that  the  outraged  dignity  of  the  law  is 
vindicated.  My  associates,  I  regret  to  say,  are  actuated  by 
different  motives." 

"  You  just  bet  high  on  that !"  exclaimed  one  of  the  two 
men  who  had  approached,  a  low-browed,  bestial  ruffian. 
"  Half  a  thousan'  's  more'n  I  could  pan  out  in  a  fortnight, 
no  matter  how  good  luck  I  had.  Parson  he  is  a  fool,  but 
we  hain't  no  right  to  grumble  'bout  it,  seein'  we  git  his  share 
— hey,  Parleyvoo  ?" 

"  You  speak  truly,  Mike,"  replied  his  companion,  a 
rather  handsome  looking  Frenchman,  of  middle  age.  "And 
yet  Jean  Glorieaux  likes  not  the  labor.  Were  it  not  that 
he  had  lost  his  last  ounce  at  monte,  and  had  the  fever  for 
play  still  in  his  blood,  not  one  sou  would  he  earn  in  such 
ungentle  a  manner." 

"God's  worst  curses  on  all  of  you!"  cried  the  woman, 
with  an  energy  which  inspired  her  plain  face  and  form  with 
a  terrible  dignity  and  power,  "  if  you  lay  a  hand  on  a  man 
who  is  the  only  friend  a  poor  woman  has  ever  found  in  the 
world !" 

Glorieaux  shuddered,  and  Mike  receded  a  step  or  two : 
but  the  ex-minister  maintained  the  most  perfect  composure, 
&nd  exclaimed : 

"  Poor  fools  !     It  is  written,  '  The  curse,  causeless,  shall 


400  "  TOUCH  A  WOMAN,  WILL  YEE  ?' 

not  fall.'  And  yet,  madame,  I  assure  you  that  I  most 
tenderly  sympathize  with  you  in  your  misfortunes,  what- 
ever they  may  be." 

"  Then  let  him  alone !"  cried  the  woman.  "  My  only 
child  has  been  stolen  away  from  me — dear  little  Johnny — 
and  the  man  offered  to  go  get  him.  And  you've  made  me 
betray  him.  Oh,  God  curse  you  all !" 

"Madame,"  replied  the  still  imperturbable  parson,  "the 
crime  of  blood-guiltiness  cannot  be  imputed  to  you,  for  you 
did  not  know  what  you  were  doing." 

The  woman  leaned  against  a  tree,  and  waited  until 
Glorieaux  declared  to  the  parson  he  would  abandon  the 
chase. 

"  It  is  useless,"  said  he,  striking  a  dramatic  attitude, 
and  pointing  to  the  woman,  "  for  her  tears  have  quenched 
the  fiery  fever  in  the  blood  of  Glorieaux." 

"  Then  I'll  git  the  hull  thousand,"  growled  Mike,  "  an* 
I'll  need  it,  too,  if  I've  got  to  stand  this  sort  of  thing  much 
longer." 

A  confused  sound  of  voices  on  the  other  side  of  the 
creek  attracted  the  attention  of  the  men,  and  .caused  the 
woman  to  raise  her  head.  A  moment  later  Jude  appeared, 
with  a  child  in  his  arms,  and  plunged  into  the  water. 

"  Now  we'll  have  him  !"  cried  the  parson  ;  "  and  you, 
madame,  will  have  your  child.  Be  ready  to  chase  him,  men, 
if  he  attempts  to  run  when  he  gets  ashore." 

"  Go  back !  go  back !"  screamed  the  woman.  "  They  are 
after  you,  these  men.  Try  to " 

The  law-abiding  parson  placed  his  hand  over  the  woman's 
mouth,  but  found  himself  promptly  flying  backward  through 
space,  while  Mike  roared  :  » 

"  Touch  a  woman,  will  yer  ?  No  thousand  dollars  nor 
any  other  money,  '11  hire  me  to  travel  with  such  a  scoun- 
drel. Catch  him  yerself,  if  yer  want  ter." 

"  But  if  you  do,"  said  Glorieaux,  politely,  as  he  drew  his 
revolver,  "  it  will  be  necesary  for  Glorieaux  to  slay  the 
Lord's  anointed." 


A    DIVORCE,  TO   ORDER.  401 

"  Follered,  by  thunder !"  said  Mike. 

It  was  true.  During  the  few  seconds  which  had  been 
consumed  in  conversation,  Jude  got  well  into  the  creek. 
He  had  not  seemed  to  hear  the  woman's  warning ;  but  now 
a  greater  danger  threatened  him,  for  on  the  opposite  bank 
of  the  creek  there  appeared  a  man,  who  commenced  firing 
at  Jude's  head  and  the  small  portion  of  his  shoulders  that 
was  visible. 

"  The  monster.  Oh,  the  wretch !"  screamed  the  woman. 
"  He  may  hit  Johnny,  his  only  son  !  Oh,  God  have  mercy 
on  me,  and  save  my  child !" 

A  shot  immediately  behind  her  followed  the  woman's 
prayer,  and  Glorieaux  exclaimed,  pointing  to  the  opposite 
bank,  where  Marksey  was  staggering  and  falling  : 

"  Glorieaux  gathered  from  your  words  that  a  divorce 
would  be  acceptable,  madame.  Behold,  you  have  it !" 

"Pity  nobody  didn't  think  of  it  sooner,"  observed  Mike, 
shading  his  eyes  as  he  stared  intently  at  Jude,  "  for  there's 
a  red  streak  in  the  water  right  behind  him." 

The  woman  was  already  standing  at  the  water's  edge, 
with  hands  clasped  in  an  agony  of  terror  and  anxiety.  The 
three  men  hastened  to  join  her. 

"  Wish  I  could  swim,"  said  Mike,  "for  he's  gettin'  weak, 
an'  needs  help." 

The  parson  sprang  into  the  water,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
chill  and  the  swift  current,  he  was  soon  by  Jude's  side. 

"Take  the  young  un,"  gasped  Jude,  "  for  I'm  a  goner." 

"  Put  your  hand  on  my  shoulder,"  said  the  parson.  "  I 
can  get  you  both  ashore." 

"'Tain't  no  use,"  said  Jude,  feebly ;  "  corpses  don't  count 
for  much  in  Calif orny." 

"But  your  immortal  part,"  remonstrated  the  parson, 
trying  to  seize  Jude  by  the  hand  which  held  little  Johnny. 

"  God  hev  mercy  on  it !"  whispered  the  dying  man ;  "it's 
the  fust  time  He  ever  had  an  excuse  to  do  it." 

Strong  man  and  expert  swimmer  as  the  ex-minister  was, 
he  was  compelled  to  relinquish  his  hold  of  the  wounded 

26 


402 


DOWN  THE  STREAM  INTO  ETERNITY. 


man  ;  and  Jude,  after  one  or  two  fitful  struggles  against  Ms 
fate,  drifted  lifeless  down  the  stream  and  into  eternity, 
while  the  widowed  mother  regained  her  child.  The  man 
of  God,  the  chivalrous  Frenchman  and  the  brutish  Mike 
slowly  returned  to  their  camp ;  but  no  one  who  met  them 
could  imagine,  from  their  looks,  that  they  were  either  of 
them  anything  better  than  fugitives  from  justice. 


A  LOYE  OF  A  COTTAGE. 

¥E  HAD  been  married  about  six  months,  and  were 
boarding  in  the  most  comfortable  style  imaginable, 
when  one  evening,  after  dinner,  Sophronia  announced  that 
her  heart  was  set  upon  keeping  house.  My  heart  sank 
within  me ;  but  one  of  the  lessons  learned  within  my  half 
year  of  married  life  is,  that  when  Sophronia's  heart  is  set 
upon  anything,  the  protests  I  see  fit  to  make  must  be  utter- 
ed only  within  the  secret  recesses  of  my  own  consciousness. 
Then  Sophronia  remarked  that  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  keep  house  in  the  country,  at  which  information  my 
heart  sank  still  lower.  Not  that  I  lack  appreciation  of  nat- 
ural surroundings.  1  delight  in  localities  where  beautiful 
scenery  exists,  and  where  tired  men  can  rest  under  trees 
without  even  being  suspected  of  inebriety.  But  when 
any  of  my  friends  go  house-hunting  in  the  city,  in  the  two  or 
three  square  miles  which  contain  all  the  desirable  houses, 
their  search  generally  occupies  a  month,  during  which  time 
the  searchers  grow  thin,  nervous,  absent-minded,  and  un- 
companionable. "What,  then,  would  be  my  fate,  after 
searching  the  several  hundred  square  miles  of  territory 
which  were  within  twenty  miles  of  New  York.  But  So- 
phronia had  decided  that  it  was  to  be — and  I, 

"  Mine  not  to  make  reply  ; 
Mine  not  to  reason  why  ; 
Mine  but  to  do  or  die." 

By  a  merciful  dispensation  of  Providence,  however,  I  was 
saved  from  the  full  measure  of  the  fate  I  feared.   Sophronia 

403 


404  EN  ROUTE  TO  VILLA  VALLEY. 

lias  a  highly  imaginative  nature ;  in  her  a  fancy  naturally 
ethereal  has  been  made  super-sensitive  by  long  companion- 
ship of  tender- voiced  poets  and  romancers.  So  when  I 
bought  a  railway  guide  and  read  over  the  names  of  stations 
within  a  reasonable  distance  of  New  York,  Sophronia's  in- 
terest was  excited  in  exact  proportion  to  the  attractiveness 
of  the  names  themselves.  Communipaw  she  pronounced 
execrable.  Ewenville  reminded  her  of  a  dreadful  psalm 
tune.  Paterson  recalled  the  vulgar  question,  "  Who  struck 
Billy  Patterson?"  Yonkers  sounded  Dutch.  Morristown 
had  a  plebeian  air.  Kutherford  Park — well,  that  sounded 
endurable ;  it  reminded  her  of  the  scene  in  Mrs.  Some- 
body's novel.  Elizabeth  was  a  dreadfully  old-fashioned 
name.  Villa  Valley— 

"  Stop  !"  exclaimed  Sophronia,  raising  impressively  the 
hand  which  bore  her  diamond  engagement  ring ;  "  that  is 
the  place,  Pierre.  (I  was  christened  Peter,  but  Miss  Soph- 
ronia never  looked  encouragingly  upon  me  until  a  friend 
nicknamed  me  Pierre.)  I  have  a  presentiment  that  our 
home  will  be  at  Yilla  Valley.  How  melodious — how  abso- 
lutely enchanting  it  sounds.  There  is  always  a  lake  or  a 
brook  in  a  valley,  too,  don't  you  know  ?" 

I  did  not  previously  possess  this  exact  knowledge  of  the 
peculiarity  of  valleys,  but  I  have  an  accurate  knowledge  of 
what  my  duty  is  regarding  any  statement  which  Sophronia 
may  make,  so  I  promptly  assented.  By  the  rarest  good 
fortune,  I  found  in  the  morning  paper  an  advertisement  of 
a  real  estate  agent  who  made  a  specialty  of  Villa  Valley 
property.  This  agent,  when  visited  by  me  early  in  the 
morning,  abundantly  confirmed  Sophronia's  intuition  re- 
garding brooks  and  lakes,  by  asserting  that  his  charming 
town  possessed  both,  beside  many  other  attractions,  which 
irresistibly  drove  us  to  Villa  Valley  the  next  day,  with  a 
letter  to  the  agent's  resident  partner. 

It  was  a  bright  April  morning  when  we  started  in  the 
resident  agent's  carriage,  to  visit  a  number  of  houses,  the 
rent  of  which  did  not  exceed  four  hundred  dollars. 


SOME  COTTAGES,  405 

"  Drive  first  to  the  Old  Stone  Cottage,"  said  Sophronia ; 
"the  very  name  is  enchanting." 

The  house  itself  did  not  support  Sophronia' s  impression. 
It  stood  very  near  the  road,  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
any  tree  or  bush,  had  three  large  and  three  small  rooms, 
only  one  of  which  could  be  reached  without  passing  through 
two  others,  for  the  house  had  no  hall.  The  woodwork 
would  have  apparently  greeted  paint  as  a  life-long  stranger ; 
the  doors,  in  size  and  clumsiness,  reminded  me  of  the  gates 
of  Gaza,  as  pictured  in  Sunday-school  books.  The  agent 
said  it  had  once  been  Washington's  headquarters,  and  I 
saw  no  reason  to  doubt  his  word ;  though  I  timidly  asked 
whether  tradition  asserted  that  the  Father  of  his  Country 
had  not  suffered  a  twinge  of  neuralgia  while  at  Villa  Valley. 

"A  Perfect  Snuggery"  did  not  belie  its  name,  but  in 
size  and  ventilation  forcibly  suggested  a  chicken  coop. 

"Charming  Swiss  Cottage"  seemed  to  be  a  remodeled 
pig-stye,  from  which  objectionable  matter  had  not  been 
removed.  "  The  House  in  the  Woods  "  was  approachable 
only  through  water  half-way  up  to  the  carriage  body ;  so  we 
regretfully  abandoned  pursuit  of  it; 

"  Silver  Lake !"  exclaimed  Sophronia,  reading  from  the 
memoranda  she  had  penciled  from  the  agent's  descriptive 
list.  "  That,  I  am  sure,  will  suit  us.  Don't  you  remember, 
Pierre,  my  presentiment  about  a  lake  at  Villa  Valley  ?" 

I  remembered,  by  a  little  stretch  of  my  imagination. 
But,  alas  !  for  the  uncertainty  even  of  the  presentiments  of 
one  of  Nature's  most  impressible  children.  The  "  lake  " 
was  a  pond,  perhaps  twenty  feet  in  diameter ;  an  antiquated 
boot,  two  or  three  abandoned  milk  cans,  and  a  dead  cat,  re- 
posed upon  its  placid  beach;  and  from  a  sheltered  nook 
upon  its  southerly  side,  an  early-aroused  frog  appeared, 
inquiringly,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise — or,  perhaps,  of 
warning. 

"Take  me  away?"  exclaimed  Sophronia,  "It  was  a 
dream — a  fateful  dream." 

"New  Cottage,  with  all  modern  improvements,"  seemed 


406  AN  OLD  FAMILY  HOMESTEAD. 

really  to  justify  its  title  ;  but  Sophronia  declined  to  look 
farther  than  its  outside. 

"  I  could  never  be  happy  in  that  house,  Pierre,"  said 
she,  with  emphasis  ;  "it  looks  to  be  entirely  new." 

"  'Tis,  ma'am,"  declared  the  agent ;  "  the  last  coat  of 
paint  hasn't  been  on  a  month." 

"  So  I  divined,"  replied  Sophronia.  "  And  so  it  is  sim- 
ply a  lifeless  mass  of  boards  and  plaster — no  loving  heart- 
throbs ever  consecrated  its  walls — no  tender  romances  have 
been  woven  under  its  eaves-  --no  wistful  yearnings — no  ago- 
nies of  parting  have  made  its  chambers  instinct  with  life 

»5 

"  I  declare !"  exclaimed  the  agent ;  "  excuse  me  for  in- 
terrupting, ma'am,  but  I  believe  I've  got  the  very  house 
you're  looking  for.  How  would  you  like  a  rambling,  old 
family  homestead,  a  hundred  years  old,  with  quaint,  wide 
fireplaces,  high  mantels,  overhanging  eaves,  a  heavy  screen 
of  evergreens,  vines  clambering  over  everything,  a  great 
wide  hall— 

"  Exquisite — charming — enchanting — paradisaical — di- 
vine !"  murmured  Sophronia. 

"  And  the  rent  is  only  three  hundred  dollars,"  continued 
tlie  agent. 

This  latter  bit  of  information  aroused  my  strongest 
.sentiment,  and  I  begged  the  agent  to  show  us  the  house 
at  once. 

The  approach  was  certainly  delightful.  We  dashed  into 
the  gloom  of  a  mass  of  spruces,  pines,  and  arbor-vitaes,  and 
stopped  suddenly  in  front  of  a  little,  low  cottage,  which  con- 
sisted principally  of  additions,  no  one  of  which  was  after 
any  particular  architectural  order.  Sophronia  gazed  an 
instant ;  her  face  assumed  an  ecstatic  expression  which  I 
had  not  seen  since  the  day  of  our  engagement ;  she  threw 
her  arms  about  my  neck,  her  head  drooped  upon  my  bosom, 
and  she  whispered : 

"My  ideal!" 

Then  this  matchless  woman,  intuitively  realizing  that 


A  GOOD  WAY  FROM  THE  STATION.          407 

the  moment  for  action  had  arrived,  reassumed  her  natural 
dignity,  and,  with  the  air  of  Mrs.  Scott  Siddons  in  "  Eliza- 
beth," exclaimed  : 

"  Enough !    "We  take  it !" 

"  Hadn't  you  better  examine  the  interior  first,  my  love?" 
I  suggested. 

"  Were  the  interior  only  that  of  a  barn,"  remarked 
my  consistent  mate,  "  my  decision  would  not  be  affected 
thereby.  The  eternal  unities  are  never  disunited,  nor 
are- 

"  I  don't  believe  I've  got  the  key  with  me,"  said  the 
agent ;  "  but  perhaps  we  can  get  in  through  one  of  the  win- 
dows." 

The  agent  tied  his  horse  and  disappeared  behind  the 
house.  Again  Sophronia's  arm  encircled  me,  and  she  mur- 
mured : 

"  Oh,  Pierre,  what  bliss  !" 

"  It's  a  good  way  from  the  station,  pet,"  I  ventured  to 
remark. 

Sophronia's  enthusiasm  gave  place  to  scorn  ;  she  with- 
drew her  affectionate  demonstration,  and  replied  : 

€t  Spoken  like  a  real  man !  The  practical,  always — the 
ideal,  never !  Once  I  dreamed  of  the  companionship  of  a 
congenial  spirit,  but,  alas !  '  A  good  way  from  the  station  !' 
"Were  I  a  man,  I  would,  to  reside  in  such  a  bower,  plod 
cheerily  over  miles  of  prosaic  clods." 

"And  you'd  get  your  shapely  boots  most  shockingly 
muddy,"  I  thought,  as  the  agent  opened  one  of  the  front 
windows  and  invited  us  to  enter. 

"French  windows,  too!"  exclaimed  Sophronia ;  "oh 
Pierre  !  And  see  that  exquisite  old  mantel ;  it  looks  as  if  it 
had  been  carved  from  ebony  upon  the  banks  of  one  of  the 
Queen  of 'the  Adriatic's  noiseless  by-ways.  And  these  tiny 
rooms,  how  cozy — how  like  fairy  land !  Again  I  declare, 
we  will  take  it !  Let  us  return  at  once  to  the  city — how  I 
loathe  the  thought  of  treading  its  noisy  thoroughfares 
again ! — and  order  our  carpets  and  furniture." 


408  COMMUNING  WITH  NATUKE. 

"Are  you  sure  you  won't  be  lonesome  here,  darling?"  I 
-asked.  "It  is  quite  a  distance  from  any  neighbors." 

"  A  true  woman  is  never  lonesome  when  she  can  com- 
mune with  Nature,"  replied  Sophronia.  "  Besides,"  she 
continued,  in  a  less  exalted  strain,  "I  shall  have  Laura 
Stanley  and  Stella  Sykes  with  me  most  of  the  time." 

The  agent  drove  us  back  to  his  office,  spending  not  more 
than  ten  minutes  on  the  road  ;  yet  the  time  sufficed  Soph- 
ronia to  give  me  in  detail  her  idea  of  the  combination  of 
carpets,  shades,  furniture,  pictures,  etc.,  which  would  be  in 
harmony  with  our  coming  domicile.  Suddenly  nature  re- 
asserted her  claims,  and  Sophronia  addressed  the  agent. 

"  Your  partner  told  my  husband  that  there  were  a  lake 
and  two  brooks  at  Yilla  Yalley.  I  should  like  to  see 
them." 

"  Certainly,  ma'am,"  replied  the  agent,  promptly  ;  "  I'll 
drive  you  past  them  as  you  go  to  the  train." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  lease  was  made  out  and  signed.  I 
was  moved  to  interrupt  the  agent  with  occasional  questions, 
such  as,  "  Isn't  the  house  damp  ?"  "  Any  mosquitoes  ?" 
"Is  the  water  good  and  plentiful?"  "Does  the  cellar 
extend  under  the  whole  house  ?"  But  the  coldly  practical 
nature  of  these  queries  affected  Sophronia's  spirits  so  un- 
pleasantly, that,  out  of  pure  affection,  I  forebore.  Then  the 
agent  invited  us  into  his  carriage  again,  and  said  he  would 
drive  us  to  the  lower  depot. 

"Two  stations?"  I  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  ;  "  and  one's  as  near  to  your  house  as 
the  other." 

"  Your  house,"  whispered  Sophronia,  turning  her  soulful 
eyes  full  upon  me,  and  inserting  her  delicate  elbow  with 
unnecessary  force  between  my  not  heavily  covered  ribs — 
4<  your  house  !  Oh,  Pierre  !  does  not  the  dignity  of  having 
a  house  appear  to  you  like  a  beautiful  vision  ?" 

"  I  strove  for  an  instant  to  frame  a  reply  in  keeping 
with  Sophronia's  mental  condition,  when  an  unpleasant 
odor  saluted  my  nose.  That  Sophronia  was  conscious  of 


HEALTHY  SMELLS.  409 

the  same  disgusting  atmospheric  feature,  I  learned  by  the 
sound  of  a  decided  sniff.  Looking  about  us,  I  saw  a  large 
paper  mill  beside  a  stream,  whose  contents  looked  sewer- 
like. 

"Smell  the  paper-mash  boiling?"  asked  the  agent. 
"  Peculiar,  isn't  it?  Very  healthy,  though,  they  say." 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  trickled  a  small  gutter, 
full  of  a  reddish-brown  liquid,  its  source  seeming  to  be  a 
dye-house  behind  us.  Just  then  we  drove  upon  a  bridge, 
which  crossed  a  vile  pool,  upon  the  shore  of  which  was  a 
rolling-mill. 

"  Here's  the  lake,"  said  the  agent ;  "  Dellwild  Lake,  they 
call  it.  And  here's  the  brooks  emptying  into  it,  one  on  each 
side  of  the  road." 

Sophronia  gasped  and  looked  solemn.  Her  thoughtful- 
ness  lasted  but  a  moment,  however  ;  then  she  applied  her 
daintily  perfumed  handkerchief  to  her  nose  and  whispered  : 
"  Dellwild !  Charbig  dabe,  Pierre,  dod't  you  thig  so  ?" 

During  the  fortnight  which  followed,  Sophronia  and  I 
visited  house-furnishing  stores,  carpet  dealers,  furniture 
warehouses,  picture  stores,  and  bric-a-brac  shops.  The 
agent  was  very  kind  ;  he  sent  a  boy  to  the  house  with  the 
keys  every  time  the  express  wished  to  deliver  any  of  our 
goods.  Finally,  the  carpet  dealer  having  reported  the  car- 
pets laid,  Sophronia,  I,  and  our  newly  engaged  servant, 
started  by  rail  to  Villa  Valley,  three  double-truck  loads  of 
furniture  preceding  us  by  way  of  the  turnpike.  I  had 
thoughtfully  ordered  quite  a  quantity  of  provisions  put  into 
the  house,  in  advance  of  our  arrival.  Hiring  a  carriage  at 
the  station,  and  obtaining  the  keys  of  the  agent,  we  drove 
to  our  residence.  Sophronia,  to  use  her  own  expression, 
felt  as  she  imagined  Juno  did,  when  first  installed  as  mis- 
tress of  the  rosy  summit  of  the  divine  mount ;  while  I, 
though  scarcely  in  a  mood  to  compare  myself  with  Jove,  was 
conscious  of  a  new  and  delightful  sense  of  manliness.  The 
shades  and  curtains  were  in  the  windows,  the  sun  shone 
warmly  upon  them,  and  a  bright  welcome  seemed  to  extend 


410  CONFUSION  WOESE   CONFOUNDED. 

itself  from  the  whole  face  of  the  cottage.  I  unlocked  the 
door  and  tenderly  kissed  my  darling  under  the  lintel ;  then 
we  stepped  into  the  parlor.  Sophronia  immediately  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Gracious !" 

The  word  that  escaped  my  lips,  I  shrink  from  placing 
upon  the  printed  page.  A  barrel  of  flour,  one  of  sugar, 
another  of  corned  beef,  and  a  half-barrel  of  molasses,  a  box 
of  candles,  a  can  of  kerosene  oil,  some  cases  of  canned  fruits, 
a  box  of  laundry  soap,  three  wash-tubs,  and  a  firkin  of  but- 
ter— all  these,  and  many  other  packages,  covered  the  parlor 
floor,  and  sent  up  a  smell  suggestive  of  an  unventilated 
grocery.  The  flour  had  sifted  between  the  staves  of  the 
barrel,  the  molasses  had  dripped  somewhat,  the  box  of 
soap  had  broken  open  and  a  single  bar  had  been  fastened 
to  the  carpet  by  the  seal  of  a  boot-heel  of  heroic  size. 
Sophronia  stepped  into  little  pools  of  molasses,  and  the 
effect  seemed  to  be  that  the  carpet  rose  to  bestow  sweet 
clinging  kisses  upon  the  dainty  feet  of  the  loveliest  of  her 
sex. 

"  Horrible  !"  ejaculated  Sophronia. 

"  And  here  come  the  trucks,"  said  I,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  "  and  the  one  with  the  parlor  furniture  is  in 
front." 

Fortunately,  the  truckmen  were  good-tempered  and 
amenable  to  reason,  expressed  by  means  of  currency ;  so  we 
soon  had  the  provisions  moved  into  the  kitchen.  Then  the 
senior  truckman  kindly  consented  to  dispose  of  an  old  tar- 
paulin, at  about  twice  the  price  of  a  piece  of  velvet  carpet 
of  similar  size,  and  this  we  spread  upon  the  parlor  floor 
while  the  furniture  should  be  brought  in.  Sophronia 
assumed  the  direction  of  proceedings,  but  it  soon  became 
evident  that  she  was  troubled. 

"  The  room,  evidently,  was  not  arranged  for  this  furni- 
ture," said  she. 

And  she  spoke  truthfully.  We  had  purchased  a  lounge, 
a  large  centre-table,  an  etagere,  a  Turkish  chair,  two  recep- 


A  HEIGHT  WELCOME    SEEMED  TO  EXTEND  ITSELF  FROM  THE  WHOLE  FACE 
OF  THE  COTTAGE. 


411 


A  NOVEL  PLACE   FOB  A  PIANO.  413 

tion  chairs,  four  chairs  to  match  the  lounge,  a  rocker  or 
two,  an  elegant  firescreen,  and  several  other  articles  of  fur- 
niture, and  there  was  considerable  difficulty  experienced, 
not  only  in  arranging  them,  but  in  getting  them  into  the 
parlor  at  all.  Finally,  the  senior  truckman  spoke  : 

"  The  only  way  to  git  everythin'  in,  is  to  fix  'em  the  way 
we  do  at  the  store — set  'em  close  together." 

He  spoke  truly ;  and  Sophronia,  with  a  sigh,  assented 
to  such  an  arrangement,  suggesting  that  we  could  rearrange 
the  furniture  afterward,  and  stipulating  only  that  the 
lounge  should  be  placed  in  the  front  of  the  room.  This 
done,  there  were  three-and-a-half  feet  of  space  between  the 
front  of  tne  lounge  and  the  inside  of  the  window-casings. 

We  can,  at  least,  sit  upon  it  and  lose  our  souls  in  the 
dying  glories  of  the  sun  upon  the  eternal  hills,  and — "  Gra- 
cious, Pierre,  where's  the  piano  to  go  ?" 

Sure  enough ;  and  the  piano  was  already  at  the  door. 
The  senior  truckman  cast  his  professional  eye  at  the  vacant 
space,  and  spoke  : 

"  You  can  put  it  right  there,"  said  he.  "  There  won't  be 
no  room  fur  the  stool  to  go  behind  it ;  but  if  you  put  the 
key-board  to  the  front,  an'  open  the  winder,  you  can  stand 
out  doors  an'  play." 

Sophronia  eyed  the  senior  truckman  suspiciously  for  a 
moment,  but  not  one  of  his  honest  facial  muscles  moved 
so  Sophronia  exclaimed : 

"  True.     And  how  romantic !" 

While  the  piano  was  being  placed  I  became  conscious 
of  some  shocking  language  being  used  on  the  stairway 
Looking  out  I  saw  two  truckmen  and  the  headboard  of  our 
new  bedstead  inextricably  mixed  on  the  stairs. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  on  ?"  I  asked. 

The  look  which  one  of  the  truckmen  gave  me  I  shall  not 
forget  until  my  dying  day  ;  the  man's  companion  remarked 
that  when  (qualified)  fools  bought  furniture  for  such  (doubly 
qualified)  houses,  they  ought  to  have  brains  enough  to  get 
things  small  enough  to  get  up  the  (trebly  qualified)  stairs. 


414  HIGH  BEDSTEADS  AND  LOW  CEILINGS. 

I  could  not  deny  the  logic  of  this  statement,  impious  as 
were  the  qualifying  adjectives  which  were  used  thereupon. 
But  something  had  to  be  done ;  we  could  not  put  the  bed- 
stead together  upon  the  stairway  and  sleep  upon  it  there, 
even  were  there  not  other  articles  of  furniture  imperatively 
demanding  a  right  of  way. 

"  Try  to  get  it  down  again,"  said  I. 

They  tried,  and,  after  one  mighty  effort,  succeeded ;  they 
also  brought  down  several  square  yards  of  ceiling  plaster 
and  the  entire  handrail  of  the  stair. 

"  Think  the  ceilings  of  these  rooms  is  high  enough  to  let 
that  bed  stand  up  ?"  asked  the  senior  truckman. 

I  hastily  measured  the  height  of  the  ceilings,  and  then 
of  the  bedstead,  and  found  the  latter  nearly  eighteen  inches 
too  high.  Then  I  called  Sophronia  :  the  bedstead  was  of 
her  selection,  and  was  an  elegant  sample  of  fine  woods  and 
excessive  ornamentation.  It  was  a  precious  bit  of  furniture, 
but  time  was  precious,  too.  The  senior  truckman  suggested 
that  the  height  of  the  bedstead  might  be  reduced  about  two 
feet  by  the  removal  of  the  most  lofty  ornament,  and  that  a 
healthy  man  could  knock  it  off  with  his  fist. 

"  Let  it  be  done,"  said  Sophronia.  "  What  matter  ?  A 
king  discrowned  is  still  a  king  at  heart." 

The  senior  truckman  aimed  a  deadly  blow  with  a  cart- 
rung,  and  the  bedstead  filled  its  appointed  place.  The  re- 
maining furniture  followed  as  fast  as  could  be  expected ;  we 
soon  gave  up  the  idea  of  getting  it  all  into  the  house ;  but 
the  woodhouse  was  spacious  and  easy  of  access,  so  we 
stowed  there  important  portions  of  three  chamber  sets,  a 
gem  of  a  sideboard,  the  Turkish  chair,  which  had  been 
ordered  for  the  parlor,  and  the  hat-rack,  which  the  hall  was 
too  small  to  hold.  We  also  deposited  in  the  woodhouse  all 
the  pictures,  in  their  original  packages. 

At  length  the  trucks  were  emptied ;  the  senior  truck- 
man smiled  sweetly  as  I  passed  a  small  fee  into  his  hand ; 
then  he  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  roof  of  the  cottage,  and 
remarked : 


"FKOWSY  HEAD'S"  DISCOMFOKT.  415 

"  It's  none  of  my  business,  I  know ;  but  I  hate  to  see 
nice  things  spiled.  I'd  watch  that  roof,  ef  I  was  you,  the 
fust  time  it  rained." 

I  thanked  him  ;  he  drove  off ;  I  turned  and  accepted  the 
invitation  which  was  presented  by  Sophronia's  outstretched 
arms. 

"  Oh,  Pierre  !"  she  exclaimed ;  "  at  last  we  are  in  our  own 
home  !  No  uncongenial  spirits  about  us — no  one  to  molest 
or  annoy — no  unsympathetic  souls  to  stifle  our  ardent  pas- 
sion for  Nature  and  the  work  of  her  free,  divine  hands." 

A  frowsy  head  suddenly  appeared  at  the  dining-room 
door,  and  a  voice  which  accompanied  it  remarked : 

"Didn't  they  bring  in  any  stove,  ma'am?" 

Sophronia  looked  inquiringly  at  me,  and  I  answered  : 

"  No  !"  looking  very  blank  at  the  same  time. 

*  Then  how  am  I  to  make  a  fire  to  cook  with  ?"  asked 
the  girl. 

"  In  the  range,  of  course,"  said  Sophronia. 

Our  domestic's  next  remark  had,  at  least,  the  effect  of 
teaching  what  was  her  nationality  : 

"An'  do  ye  think  that  I'd  ax  fur  a  sthove  av  dhere  was  a 
range  in  the  house  ?  Dhivil  a  bit !" 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  said  I  soothingly ;  "  I'm  an  old 
soldier ;  I'll  make  a  fire  out  of  doors,  and  give  you  as  nice 
a  cup  of  tea  and  plate  of  hot  biscuit  as  you  ever  tasted. 
And  I'll  order  a  stove  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

Sophronia  consented,  and  our  domestic  was  appeased. 
Then  I  asked  the  domestic  to  get  some  water  while  I  should 
make  the  fire.  The  honest  daughter  of  toil  was  absent  for 
many  moments,  and  when  she  returned,  it  was  to  report, 
with  some  excitement,  that  there  was  neither  well  nor  cistern 
<on  the  premises. 

Then  I  grew  angry,  and  remarked,  in  Sophronia's  hear- 
ing, that  we  were  a  couple  of  fools,  to  take  a  house  without 
first  proving  whether  the  agent  had  told  the  truth.  But 
Sophronia,  who  is  a  consistent  optimist,  rebuked  me  for  my 
want  of  faith  in  the  agent. 


416  A  CHARMING  PASTOEAL  PICTURE. 

"  Pierre,"  said  she,  "  it  is  unmanly  to  charge  a  fellow- 
man  with  falsehood  upon  the  word  of  a  menial.  I  know 
that  agent  tells  the  truth,  for  he  has  such  liquid  blue  eyes  ; 
besides,  his  house  is  right  next  to  the  Presbyterian 
Church." 

Either  one  of  these  powerful  arguments  was  sufficient  to 
silence  me,  of  course ;  so  I  took  the  pail,  and  sought  well 
and  cistern  myself.  But  if  either  was  on  the  place,  it  was 
so  skillfully  secreted  that  I  could  not  find  the  slightest  out- 
ward evidence  of  it.  Finally,  to  be  thorough,  I  paced  the 
garden  from  front  to  rear,  over  lines  not  more  than  ten  feet 
apart,  and  then  scrutinized  the  fence-corners. 

"While  at  this  work,  I  was  approached  by  a  gentleman, 
who  seemed  to  come  from  a  house  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  off. 

"  Moved  into  the  cottage,  it  seems,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied.  "  Do  you  know  the  place  ?  The  agent 
said  there  was  excellent  water  here,  but  I  can't  find  it." 

"  He  meant  there  was  good  water  in  my  well,  where  all 
occupants  of  the  cottage  have  drawn  water  for  several  years. 
The  well  belonging  to  your  place  was  covered  up  when  the 
road  was  cut  through,  a  few  years  ago,  and  neighbor  Hubbell 
— well,  /  don't  say  anything  against  him — neighbors  must 
be  neighborly,  but  folks  do  say  he's  too  stingy  to  dig  a  new 
well.  That's  the  reason  the  cottage  hasn't  been  occupied 
much  for  the  last  few  years.  But  everybody  is  welcome  to 
draw  from  my  well — come  along." 

I  followed  the  kind-hearted  man,  but  I  wished  that  the 
liquid  depth  of  the  agent's  blue  eyes  had  a  proper  parallel 
upon  the  estate  which  he  had  imposed  upon  me.  I  re- 
turned as  full  of  wrath  as  my  pail  was  of  water,  when,  across 
the  fence,  I  saw  Sophronia's  face,  so  suffused  with  tender 
exaltation,  that  admiration  speedily  banished  ill  nature. 

But  it  was  for  a  brief  moment  only,  for  Sophronia's 
finely-cut  lips  parted  and  their  owner  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  Pierre  !  What  a  charming  pastoral  picture — you 
and  the  pail,  and  the  lawn  as  a  background !  I  wish  we 


A  DISCOVERY.  417 

might  always  have  to  get  water  from  our  neighbor's- 
well." 

We  retired  early,  and  in  the  delightful  quiet  of  our  rural 
retreat,  with  the  moon  streaming  through  our  chamber 
window,  Sophronia  became  poetic,  and  I  grew  too  peaceful 
and  happy  even  to  harbor  malice  against  the  agent.  The 
eastern  sun  found  his  way  through  the  hemlocks  to  wake  us. 
in  the  morning,  and  the  effect  was  so  delightfully  different 
from  the  rising  bell  of  the  boarding-house,  that  when 
Sophronia  indulged  in  some  freedom  with  certain  of  Whit- 
tier's  lines,  and  exclaimed : 

\         "  Sad  is  the  man  who  never  sees 

The  sun  shine  through  his  hemlock  trees  " 

I  appreciated  her  sentiment,  and  expressed  my  regard  in  a 
loving  kiss.  Again  I  made  a  fire  out  of  doors,  boiled  coffee, 
fried  ham  and  eggs,  made  some  biscuit,  begged  some  milk 
of  our  neighbor,  and  then  we  had  a  delightful  little  break- 
fast. Then  I  started  for  the  station. 

"  Don't  forget  the  stove,  dear,"  said  Sophronia,  as  she- 
gave  me  a  parting  kiss ;  "  and  be  sure  to  send  a  butcher, 
and  baker,  and  grocer,  and — 

Just  then  our  domestic  appeared  and  remarked  : 
"  ,Arah  ye  may  as  well  get  another  girl ;  the  likes  ai  me- 
isn't  goin'  to  bring  wather  from  half-a-mile  away." 

Sophronia  grew  pale,  but  she  lost  not  an  atom  of  her 
saintly  calmness  ;  she  only  said,  half  to  herself  : 

"  Poor  thing !  she  hasn't  a  bit  of  poetry  in  her  soul.'* 
When  I  returned  in  the  evening,  I  found  Sophronia  in 
tears.  The  stove  men  had  not  quite  completed  their  work, 
so  Sophronia  and  her  assistant  had  eaten  nothing  but  dry- 
bread  since  breakfast.  The  girl  interrupted  us  to  say  that 
the  stove  was  ready,  but  that  she  couldn't  get  either  coal  or 
wood,  and  would  I  just  come  and  see  why?  I  descended 
five  of  the  cellar  stairs,  but  the  others  were  covered  with 
water,  and  upon  the  watery  expanse  about  me  floated  the 
wagon-load  of  wood  I  had  purchased.  The  coal  heap,, 
under  a  window  fifteen  feet  away,  loomed  up  like  a  rugged 

27 


418  AN  IMPRESSIVE  STEP. 

crag  of  basaltic  rock.  I  took  soundings  with  a  stick  and 
found  the  water  was  rather  more  than  two  feet  deep.  For- 
tunately, there  were  among  my  war  relics  a  pair  of  boots  as 
long  as  the  legs  of  their  owner,  so  I  drew  these  on  and 
descended  the  stairs  with  shovel  and  coal  scuttle.  The 
boots  had  not  been  oiled  in  ten  years,  so  they  found 
accommodation  for  several  quarts  of  water.  As  I  strode 
angrily  into  the  kitchen  and  set  the  scuttle  down  with  a 
suddenness  which  shook  the  floor,  Sophronia  clapped  her 
hands  in  ecstasy. 

"Pierre,"  she  exclaimed,  "you  look  like  the  picture  of 
the  sturdy  retainers  of  the  old  English  barons.  O,  I  do 
hope  that  water  won't  go  away  very  soon.  The  rattling  of 
the  water  in  your  boots  makes  your  step  so  impressive." 

I  found  that  in  spite  of  the  hunger  from  which  she  had 
suffered,  Sophronia  had  not  been  idle  during  the  day.  She 
had  coaxed  the  baker's  man  to  open  the  cases  of  pictures, 
and  she  and  the  domestic  had  carried  each  picture  to  the 
room  in  which  it  was  to  hang.  The  highest  ceiling  in  the 
house  was  six  and  a  half  feet  from  the  floor,  whereas  our 
smallest  picture  measured  three  feet  and  a  half  in  height. 
But  Sophronia's  art-loving  soul  was  not  to  be  daunted  ;  the 
pictures  being  too  large  to  hang,  she  had  leaned  them 
against  the  walls. 

"  It's  such  an  original  idea,"  said  she  ;  "  and  then,  too, 
it  gives  each  picture  such  an  unusual  effect — don't  you 
think  so?" 

I  certainly  did. 

We  spent  the  evening  in  trying  to  make  our  rooms  look 
less  like  furniture  warehouses,  but  succeeded  only  partly. 
We  agreed,  too,  that  we  could  find  something  for  painters 
and  kalsominers  to  do,  for  the  ceilings  and  walls  were 
blotched  and  streaked  so  much  that  our  pretty  furniture 
and  carpets  only  made  the  plastering  look  more  dingy. 
But  when  again  we  retired,  and  our  lights  were  out,  and 
only  soft  moonbeams  relieved  the  darkness,  our  satisfaction 
with  our  new  house  filled  us  with  pleasant  dreams,  which 


A   SHOWER-BATH.  419 

we  exchanged  before  sleeping.  After  falling  asleep,  I 
dreamed  of  hearing  a  wonderful  symphony  performed  by 
an  unseen  orchestra ;  it  seemed  as  if  Liszt  might  have  com- 
posed it,  and  as  if  the  score  was  particularly  strong  in 
trombones  and  drums.  Then  the  scene  changed,  and  I  was 
on  a  ship  in  a  storm  at  sea  ;  the  gale  was  blowing  my  hair 
about,  and  huge  rain-drops  occasionally  struck  my  face. 
Sophronia  was  by  my  side ;  but,  instead  of  glorying  with 
me  in  meeting  the  storm-king  in  his  home,  she  complained 
bitterly  of  the  rain.  The  unaccountable  absence  of  her 
constitutional  romanticism  provoked  me,  and  I  remonstrated 
so  earnestly,  that  the  effort  roused  me  to  wakefulness. 
But  Sophronia's  complaining  continued.  I  had  scarcely 
realized  that  I  was  in  a  cottage  chamber  instead  of  on  a 
ship's  deck,  when  Sophronia  exclaimed  : 

"  Pierre,  I  wonder  if  a  shower-bath  hasn't  been  arranged 
just  where  our  bed  stands  ?  because  drops  of  water  are  fall- 
ing in  my  face  once  in  a  while.  They  are  lovely  and  cool, 
but  they  trickle  off  on  the  pillow,  and  that  don't  feel  nice." 

I  lit  a  candle,  and  examined  the  ceiling ;  directly  over 
Sophronia's  head  there  was  a  heavy  blotch,  from  the  centre 
of  which  the  water  was  dropping. 

"  Another  result  of  taking  that  liquid  blue -eyed  agent's 
word,"  I  growled,  hastily  moving  the  bed  and  its  occupant, 
and  setting  the  basin  on  the  floor  to  catch  the  water  and 
save  the  carpet. 

"  Why,  Pierre  !"  exclaimed  Sophronia,  as  I  blew  out  the 
light,  "  how  unjust  you  are.  Who  could  expect  an  agent  to 
go  over  the  roof  like  a  cat,  and  examine  each  shingle  ?  Gra- 
cious! it's  dropping  here,  too  !" 

Again  I  lighted  the  candle  and  moved  the  bed,  but 
before  I  had  time  to  retire  Sophronia  complained  that  a 
stream  was  trickling  down  upon  her  feet.  The  third  time 
the  bed  was  moved  water  dropped  down  upon  my  pillow, 
and  the  room  was  too  small  to  re-locate  the  bed  so  that 
none  of  these  unauthorized  hydrants  should  moisten  us. 
Then  we  tried  our  spare  chamber,  but  that  was  equally 
damp. 


420  AN  EXPEDIENT. 

Suddenly  I  bethought  myself  of  another  war  relic ;  and,, 
hurrying  to  an  old  trunk,  extracted  an  india-rubber  blanket. 
This,  if  we  kept  very  close  together,  kept  the  water  out,  but 
almost  smothered  us.  We  changed  our  positions  by  sitting 
up,  back  to  back,  and  dropping  the  rubber  blanket  over  our 
heads.  By  this  arrangement  the  air  was  allowed  to  circu- 
late freely,  and  we  had  some  possibilities  of  conversation 
left  us  ;  but  the  effect  of  the  weight  of  the  blanket  resting 
largely  upon  our  respective  noses  was  somewhat  depressing. 
Suddenly  Sophronia  remarked : 

"  Oh,  Pierre  !  this  reminds  me  of  those  stories  you  used 
to  tell  me,  of  how  you  and  all  your  earthly  treasures  used 
to  hide  under  this  blanket  from  the  rain !" 

The  remark  afforded  an  opportunity  for  a  very  graceful 
reply,  but  four  hours  elapsed  before  I  saw  it.  Sophronia 
did  not  seem  hurt  by  my  negligence,  but  almost  instantly 
continued  : 

"  It  would  be  just  like  war,  if  there  was  only  some  shoot- 
ing going  on.  Can't  you  fire  your  revolver  out  of  the 
window,  Pierre  ?" 

"I  could,"  I  replied,  "  if  that  blue-eyed  agent  was  any- 
where within  range." 

"Why,  Pierre,  I  think  you're  dreadfully  unjust  to  that 
poor  man.  He  can't  go  sleeping  around  in  all  the  rooms 
of  each  of  his  cottages  every  time  there's  a  rainstorm,  to  see 
if  they  leak.  Besides — oh,  Pierre !  I've  a  brilliant  idea  !  It 
can't  be  wet  down-stairs." 

True.  I  was  so  engrossed  by  different  plans  of  revenge,, 
that  I  had  not  thought  of  going  into  the  parlor  or  dining-room 
to  sleep.  We  moved  to  the  parlor ;  Sophronia  took  the 
lounge,  while  I  found  the  floor  a  little  harder  than  I 
supposed  an  ex-soldier  could  ever  find  any  plane  surface. 
It  did  not  take  me  long,  however,  to  learn  that  the  parlor- 
floor  was  not  a  plane  surface.  It  contained  a  great  many 
small  elevations  which  kept  me  awake  for  the  remainder  of 
the  night,  wondering  what  they  could  be.  At  early  dawn  I 
was  as  far  from  a  satisfactory  theory  as  ever,  and  I  hastily 


NOT  STIPULATED  IN  THE  LEASE.  421 

loosened  one  end  of  the  carpet  and  looked  under.  The  pro- 
tuberances were  knots  in  the  flooring  boards.  In  the  days 
when  the  sturdy  patriots  of  New  Jersey  despised  such 
monarchical  luxuries  as  carpets,  the  soft  portions  of  these 
boards  had  been  slowly  worn  away,  but  the  knots — every 
one  has  heard  the  expression  "  as  tough  as  a  pine  knot." 
Fortunately,  we  had  indulged  in  a  frightfully  expensive  rug, 
and  upon  this  I  sought  and  found  a  brief  period  of  repose 
and  forge tfulness. 

While  we  were  at  the  breakfast-table  our  girl  appeared, 
with  red  eyes  and  a  hoarse  voice,  and  remarked  that  now 
she  must  leave  ;  she  had  learned  to  like  us,  and  she  loved 
the  country,  but  she  had  an  aged  parent  whose  sole  support 
she  was,  and  could  not  afford  to  risk  her  life  in  such  a 
house. 

"  Let  her  go,"  said  Sophronia.  "  If  variety  is  the  spice 
of  life,  why  shouldn't  the  rule  apply  to  servants  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  does,  my  dear,"  I  replied ;  "  but  if  we  have 
to  pay  each  girl  a  month's  wages  for  two  or  three  days  of 
work,  the  spice  will  be  more  costly  than  enjoyable — eh  ?" 

Immediately  after  breakfast  I  sought  the  agent.  I  sup- 
posed he  would  meet  me  with  downcast  eyes  and  averted 
head,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind;  he  extended  his 
hand  cordially,  and  said  he  was  delighted  to  see  me. 

"  That  roof,"  said  I,  getting  promptly  to  business,  "leaks 
— well,  it's  simply  a  sieve.  And  you  told  me  the  house  was 
dry." 

"  So  the  owner  told  me,  sir ;  of  course  you  can't  expect 
us  to  inspect  the  hundreds  of  houses  we  handle  in  a  year." 

"Well,  however  that  may  be,  the  owner  is  mistaken, 
and  he  must  repair  the  roof  at  once." 

The  agent  looked  thoughtful.  "  If  you  had  wished  the 
landlord  to  make  necessary  repairs,  you  should  have  so 
stipulated  in  the  lease.  The  lease  you  have  signed  pro- 
vides that  all  repairs  shall  be  made  at  your  own  expense." 

"  Did  the  landlord  draw  up  the  lease  ?"  I  asked,  fixing 
my  eye  severely  upon  the  agent's  liquid  orbs.  But  the 


422  EOOF — HOOFERS — BOOSING. 

agent  met  my  gaze  with   defiance   and   an   expression   of 
injured  dignity. 

"  I  asked  you  whether  you  would  have  the  usual  form  of 
lease,"  said  the  agent,  "  and  you  replied,  '  Certainly.' ' 

I  abruptly  left  the  agent's  presence,  went  to  a  lumber 
yard  near  by,  and  asked  where  I  could  find  the  best  carpen- 
ter in  town.  He  happened  to  be  on  the  ground  purchasing 
some  lumber,  and  to  him  I  made  known  my  troubles,  and 
begged  him  to  hasten  to  my  relief.  The  carpenter  was  a 
man  of  great  decision  of  character,  and  he  replied  promptly, 
ciphering  on  a  card  in  the  meantime  : 

"  No  you  don't.  Every  carpenter  in  town  has  tried  his 
hand  on  that  roof,  and  made  it  worse  than  before.  The 
only  way  to  make  it  tight  is  to  re-shingle  it  all  over.  That'll 
cost  you  $67.50,  unless  the  scantling  is  too  rotten  to  hold  the 
nails,  in  which  case  the  job'll  cost  you  $18.75  more.  I  guess 
the  rafters  are  strong  enough  to  hold  together  a  year  or  two 
longer." 

I  made  some  excuse  to  escape  the  carpenter  and  his 
dreadful  figures,  and  he  graciously  accepted  it ;  doubtless  the 
perfect  method  in  which  he  did  it  was  the  result  of  frequent 
interviews  with  other  wretched  beings  who  had  leased  the 
miserable  house  which  I  had  taken  into  my  confidence.  I 
determined  to  plead  with  the  landlord,  whose  name  I  knew, 
and  I  asked  a  chance  acquaintance  on  the  train  if  he  knew 
where  I  could  find  the  proprietor  of  my  house. 

"  Certainly,"  said  he  ;  "  there  he  is  in  the  opposite  seat 
but  one,  reading  a  religious  weekly." 

I  looked ;  my  heart  sank  within  me,  and  my  body  sank 
into  a  seat.  A  cold-eyed,  hatchet-faced  man,  from  whom 
not  even  the  most  eloquent  beggar  could  hope  to  coax 
a  penny.  Of  what  use  would  it  be  to  try  to  persuade  him  to 
spend  sixty-seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents  on  something  which 
I  had  agreed  to  take  care  of.  Something  had  to  be  done, 
however,  so  I  wasted  most  of  the  day  in  consulting  New 
York  roofers.  The  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  was  that 
I  spent  about  thirty  dollars  for  condemned  "flies"  from 


SEEKING   PATRONAGE.  423 

"  hospital"  tents,  and  had  these  drawn  tightly  over  the  roof. 
When  this  was  done  the  appearance  of  the  house  was  such 
that  I  longed  for  an  incendiary  who  would  compel  me  to 
seek  a  new  residence  ;  but  when  Sophronia  gazed  upon  the 
roof  she  clapped  her  hands  joyfully,  and  exclaimed  : 

1  "  Pierre,  it  will  be  almost  as  nice  as  living  in  a  tent, 
to  have  one  on  the  roof;  it  looks  just  the  same,  you  know, 
until  your  eyes  get  down  to  the  edge  of  it." 

There  was  at  least  one  comfort  in  living  at  Villa  Valley : 
the  people  were  very  intelligent  and  sociable,  and  we  soon 
made  many  pleasant  acquaintances.  But  they  all  had 
something  dreadful  to  suggest  about  our  house.  A  doctor, 
who  was  a  remarkably  fine  fellow,  said  he  would  be  glad  of 
my  patronage,  and  didn't  doubt  that  he  would  soon  have  it, 
unless  I  had  the  cellar  pumped  out  at  once.1.  Then  Mrs. 
Blathe,  the  leader  of  society  in  'the  village,  told  my  wife  how 
a  couple  who  once  lived  in  our  cottage  always  had  chills, 
though  no  one  else  at  Villa  Valley  had  the  remotest  idea  of 
what  a  chill  was.  The  several  coal  dealers  in  the  village 
competed  in  the  most  lively  manner  for  our  custom,  and 
when  I  mentioned  the  matter,  in  some  surprise,  to  my 
grocer,  he  remarked  that  they  knew  what  houses  needed 
most  coal  to  keep  them  warm  the  year  through,  and  worked 
for  custom  accordingly.  A  deacon,  who  was  sociable  but 
solemn,  remarked  that  some  of  his  most  sweetly  mournful 
associations  clustered  about  our  cottage — he  had  followed 
several  of  its  occupants  to  their  long  homes. 

And  yet,  as  the  season  advanced,  and  the  air  was  too  dry- 
to  admit  of  dampness  anywhere,  and  the  Summer  breezes 
blew  in  the  windows  and  doors  whole  clouds  of  perfume 
from  the  rank  thickets  of  old-fashioned  roses  which  stood 
about  the  garden,  we  became  sincerely  attached  to  the  little 
cottage.  Then  heavy  masses  of  honeysuckles  and  vines 
which  were  trained  against  the  house,  grew  dense  and 
picturesque  with  foliage,  and  Sophronia  would  enjoy  hours 
of  perfect  ecstasy,  sitting  in  an  easy-chair  under  the  ever- 
greens and  gazing  at  the  graceful  outlines  of  the  house  and 
its  verdant  ornaments. 


424  JAPANESE  WALL-PAPER. 

But  the  cellar  was  obdurate.  It  was  pumped  dry  several 
times,  but  no  pump  could  reach  the  inequalities  in  its  floor, 
and  in  August  there  came  a  crowd  of  mosquitoes  from  the 
water  in  these  small  holes.  They  covered  the  ceilings  and 
walls,  they  sat  in  every  chair,  they  sang  accompaniments  to 
.all  of  Sophronia's  songs,  they  breakfasted,  dined,  and 
supped  with  us  and  upon  us.  Sophronia  began  to  resemble 
a  person  in  the  first  stages  of  varioloid,  yet  that  incompara- 
ble woman  would  sit  between  sunset  and  dusk,  looking, 
through  nearly  closed  eyes,  at  the  walls  and  ceiling,  and 
would  remark : 

"  Pierre,  when  you  look  at  the  walls  in  this  way,  the 
mosquitoes  give  them  the  effect  of  being  papered  with  some 
of  that  exquisite  new  Japanese  wall-paper,  with  its  quaint 
spots ;  don't  you  think  so  ?" 

Finally  September  came,  and  with  it  the  equinoctial 
storm.  We  lay  in  bed  one  night,  the  wind  howling  about 
us,  and  Sophronia  rhapsodising,  through  the  medium  of 
Longfellow's  lines,  about 

"  The  storm-wind  of  the  Equinox," 

when  we  heard  a  terrific  crash,  and  then  the  sound  of  a  falling 
foody  which  shook  the  whole  house.  Sophronia  clasped  me 
wildly  and  began  to  pray ;  but  I  speedily  disengaged  myself, 
lighted  a  candle,  and  sought  the  cause  of  our  disturbance. 
I  found  it  upon  the  hall-floor :  it  was  the  front-door  and  its 
entire  casing,  both  of  which,  with  considerable  plaster, 
lathing,  and  rotten  wood,  had  been  torn  from  its  place  by 
the  fury  of  the  storm. 

In  the  morning  I  sought  a  printer,  with  a  small  but 
strong  manuscript  which  I  had  spent  the  small  hours  of  the 
night  in  preparing.  It  bore  this  title,  "  The  House  I  Live 
In."  The  printer  gave  me  the  proof  the  same  day,  and 
I  showed  it  to  the  owner  of  the  house  the  same  evening, 
remarking  that  I  should  mail  a  copy  to  every  resident  of  Villa 
Yalley,  and  have  one  deposited  in  every  Post  Office  box  in 


MY   LEASE   CANCELED. 


425 


York  City.  The  owner  offered  to  cancel  my  lease  if  I 
would  give  up  my  unkind  intention,  and  I  consented.  Then 
we  hired  a  new  cottage  (not  from  the  agent  with  the  liquid 
blue  eyes),  and,  before  accepting  it,  I  examined  it  as  if  it 
were  to  be  my  residence  to  all  eternity.  Yet  when  all  our 
household  goods  were  removed,  and  Sophronia  and  I  took 
our  final  departure,  the  gentle  mistress  of  my  home  turned 
regretfully,  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed : 

"  Oh,  Pierre !  in  spite  of  everything,  it  is  a  love  of  a 
cottage." 


THE  BLEIGHTON  KIYALS. 

village  of  Bleighton  contained  as  many  affectionate 
young  people  as  any  other  place  of  its  size,  and  was 
not  without  young  ladies,  for  the  possession  of  whose  hearts 
two  or  more  young  men  strove  against  each  other.  "When, 
however,  allusion  was  ever  made  to  "  the  rivals "  no  one 
doubted  to  whom  the  reference  applied  :  it  was  always  un- 
derstood that  the  young  men  mentioned  were  those  two  of 
Miss  Florence  Elserly's  admirers  for  whom  Miss  Elserly 
herself  seemed  to  have  more  regard  than  she  manifested 
toward  any  one  else. 

There  has  always  been  some  disagreement  among  the 
young  ladies  of  Bleighton  as  to  Miss  Elserly's  exact  rank 
among  beauties,  but  there  was  no  possibility  of  doubt  that 
Miss  Elserly  attracted  more  attention  than  any  other  lady 
in  the  town,  and  that  among  her  admirers  had  been  every 
young  man  among  whom  other  Bleighton  ladies  of  taste 
would  have  chosen  their  life-partners  had  the  power  of 
choosing  pertained  to  their  own  sex. 

The  good  young  men  of  the  village,  the  successful  busi- 
ness men  who  were  bachelors,  and  the  stylish  young  fellows 
who  came  from  the  neighboring  city  in  the  Summer,  bowed 
before  Miss  Elserly  as  naturally  as  if  fate,  embodied  in  the 
person  of  the  lady  herself,  commanded  them. 

How  many  proposals  Miss  Elserly  had  received  no  one 
knew ;  for  two  or  three  years  no  one  was  able  to  substan- 
tiate an  opinion,  from  the  young  lady's  walk  and  conversa- 
tion, that  she  specially  preferred  any  one  of  her  personal 

426 


THE  THEOLOGICAL  STUDENT.  427 

acquaintances ;  but  at  length  it  became  evident  that  she 
evinced  more  than  the  interest  of  mere  acquaintanceship  in 
Hubert  Brown,  the  best  of  the  native-born  young  men  of 
the  village. 

Mr.  Brown  was  a  theological  student,  but  the  march  of 
civilization  had  been  such  at  Bleighton  that  a  prospective 
shepherd  of  souls  might  listen  to  one  of  Beethoven's  sym- 
phonies in  a  city  opera-house  without  having  any  sin  imputed 
unto  him  !  Such  music-loving  inhabitants  of  Bleighton  as 
listened  to  one  of  these  symphonies,  which  was  also  heard  by 
Mr.  Brown  and  Miss  Elserly,  noticed  that  when  the  young 
couple  exchanged  words  and  glances,  Miss  Elserly's  well- 
trained  features  were  not  so  carefully  guarded  as  they 
usually  were  in  society.  Such  ladies  as  had  nothing  to  do, 
and  even  a  few  who  were  not  without  pressing  demands 
upon  their  time,  canvassed  the  probabilities  of  the  match 
quite  exhaustively,  and  made  some  prophecies,  but  were 
soon  confused  by  the  undoubted  fact  that  Miss  Elserly  drove 
out  a  great  deal  with  Major  Mailing,  the  dashing  ex-soldier, 
and  successful  broker  from  the  city. 

The  charm  of  uncertainty  being  thus  added  to  the  ordi- 
nary features  of  interest  which  pertain  to  all  persons  sus- 
pected of  being-  in  love,  made  Miss  Elserly's  affairs  of 
unusual  importance  to  every  one  who  knew  the  young  lady 
even  by  sight,  and  for  three  whole  months  "  the  rivals  "  were 
a  subject  of  conversation  next  in  order  to  the  weather.  At 
length  there  came  a  day  when  the  case  seemed  decided.  For 
three  days  Hubert  Brown's  face  was  very  seldom  seen  on  the 
street,  and  when  seen  it  was  longer  and  more  solemn  than 
was  required  even  by  that  order  of  sanctity  in  which  theo- 
logical students  desire  to  live. 

Then  it  was  noticed  that  while  Miss  Elserly's  beauty 
grew  no  less  in  degree,  it  changed  in  kind ;  that  she  was 
more  than  ever  seen  in  the  society  of  the  handsome  broker, 
and  that  the  broker's  attentions  were  assiduous.  Then  it  was 
suspected  that  Mr.  Brown  had  proposed  and  been  rejected. 
Ladies  who  owed  calls  to  Mr.  Brown's  mother,  made  haste 


SOME  DISAPPOINTED   FOLKS. 

to  pay  them,  and,  as  rewards  of  merit,  brought  away  con- 
firmation of  the  report.  Then,  before  the  gossips  had 
reported  the  probable  engagement  of  Miss  Elserly  to  Major 
Mailing,  the  lady  and  major  made  the  announcement  them- 
selves to  their  intimate  friends,  and  the  news  quickly 
reached  every  one  who  cared  to  hear  it. 

A  few  weeks  later,  however,  there  circulated  very  rapidly 
a  story  whose  foreshadowing  could  not  have  been  justly 
expected  of  the  village  gossips.  The  major  absented  him- 
self for  a  day  or  two  from  his  boarding-house,  and  at  a  time,, 
too,  when  numerous  gentlemen  from  the  city  came  to  call 
upon  him. 

Some  of  these  callers  returned  hurriedly  to  the  city, 
evincing  by  words  and  looks  the  liveliest  disappointment, 
while  two  of  tjiem,  after  considerable  private  conversation 
with  the  proprietress  of  the  house,  and  after  displaying 
some  papers,  in  the  presence  of  a  local  justice  of  the  peace, 
to  whom  the  good  old  lady  sent  in  her  perplexity,  took 
possession  of  the  major's  room  and  made  quite  free  with  the 
ex-warrior's  cigars,  liquors,  and  private  papers. 

Then  the  city  newspapers  told  how  Mr.  Mailing,  a 
broker  of  excellent  ability  and  reputation,  as  well  as  one  of 
the  most  gallant  of  his  country's  defenders  in  her  hour  of 
need,  had  been  unable  to  meet  his  engagements,  and  had 
also  failed  to  restore  on  demand  fifteen  thousand  dollars  in 
United  States  bonds  which  had  been  intrusted  to  him  for 
safe-keeping.  A  warrant  had  been  issued  for  Mr.  Mailing's 
arrest,  but  at  last  accounts  the  officers  had  been  unable  to 
find  him. 

Miss  Elserly  immediately  went  into  the  closest  retire- 
ment, and  even  girls  whom  she  had  robbed  of  prospective 
beaus  felt  sorry  for  her.  People  began  to  suggest  that 
there  might  have  been  a  chance  for  Brown,  after  all,  if  he 
had  staid  at  home,  instead  of  rushing  off  to  the  West  to 
play  missionary.  He  owned  more  property  in  his  own  right 
than  the  major  had  misplaced  for  other  people  ;  and  though 
some  doubts  were  expressed  as  to  Miss  Elserly's  fitness 


MR.  BROWN'S  BUSINESS.  429 

for  the  position  of  a  minister's  wife,  the  matter  was  no  less 
interesting  as  a  subject  for  conversation.  The  excellence  of 
the  chance  which  both  Brown  and  Miss  Elserly  had  lost 
seemed  even  greater  when  it  became  noised  abroad  that 
Brown  had  written  to  some  real  estate  agents  in  the  village 
that,  as  he  might  want  to  go  into  business  in  the  West,  to 
sell  for  him,  for  cash,  a  valuable  farm  which  his  father  had 
left  him.  As  for  the  business  which  Mr.  Brown  proposed 
entering,  the  reader  may  form  his  own  opinions  from  a  little 
conversation  hereinafter  recorded. 

As  Hubert  Brown,  trying  to  drown  thought  and  do  good, 
was  wandering  through  a  Colorado  town  one  evening,  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  Major  Mailing.  The  major 
looked  seedy,  and  some  years  older  than  he  did  a  month 
before,  but  his  pluck  was  unchanged.  Seeing  that  an  inter- 
view could  not  be  avoided,  he  assumed  an  independent  air, 
and  exclaimed : 

"  Why,  Brown,  what  did  you  do  that  you  had  to  come 
West?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  student,  flushing  a  little — "  except 
be  useless." 

•  ,  m 

"I  thought,"  said  the  major,  quickly,  with  a  desperate 
but  sickly  attempt  at  pleasantry,  "that  you  had  gone  in  for 
Florence  again ;  she's  worth  all  your  '  lost  sheep  of  the 
house  of  Israel.' ' 

"  I  don't  make  love  to  women  who  love  other  men,"  re- 
plied Brown. 

"  Don't,  please,  Brown,"  said  the  major,  turning  manly 
in  a  moment.  "  I  feel  worse  about  her  than  about  all  my 
creditors  or  those  infernal  bonds,  I  got  into  the  snarl  before 
I  knew  her ;  that's  the  only  way  I  can  quiet  my  conscience. 
Of  course  the — matter  is  all  up  now.  I  wrote  her  as  good 
an  apology  as  I  could,  and  a  release ;  she'd  have  taken  the 
latter  without  my  giving  it,  but " 

"No  she  wouldn't,"  interrupted  the  student. 

"How  do  you  know?"  demanded  the  major,  with  a  sus- 
picious glance,  which  did  not  escape  Brown.  "  Did  you 


430  THE  MAJOR'S  "SOLID  COMFORT." 

torment  her  by  proposing  again  upon  the  top  of  her  other 
troubles?" 

"  No,"  said  Brown  ;  "  don't  be  insulting.  But  I  know 
that  she  keeps  herself  secluded,  and  that  her  looks  and 
spirits  are  dreadfully  changed.  If  she  cared  nothing  for 
you,  she  knows  society  would  cheerfully  forgive  her  if  she 
were  to  show  it." 

"  I  wish  to  Satan  that  I  hadn't  met  you,  then,"  said  the- 
major.  "  I've  taken  solid  comfort  in  the  thought  that  most 
likely  she  was  again  the  adored  of  all  adorers,  and  was  for- 
getting me,  as  she  has  so  good  a  right  to  do." 

"  Major,"  said  Brown,  bringing  his  hand  down  on  the 
major's  shoulder  in  a  manner  suggestive  of  a  deputy  sheriff. 
"  you  ought  to  go  back  to  that  girl !" 

"And  fail,"  suggested  the  major.  "Thank  you;  and 
allow  me  to  say  you're  a  devilish  queer  fellow  for  suggest- 
ing it.  Is  it  part  of  your  religion  to  forgive  a  successful 
rival?" 

"  It's  part  of  my  religion,  when  I  love,  to  love  the  woman 
more  than  I  love  myself,"  said  Brown,  with  a  face  in  which 
pain  and  earnestness  strove  for  the  mastery.  "She  loves 
you.  I  loved  her,  and  want  to  see  her  happy." 

The  defaulter  grasped  the  student's  hand. 

"  Brown,"  said  he,  "  you're  one  of  God's  noblemen ;  she 
told  me  so  once,  but  I  didn't  imagine  then  that  I'd  ever  own- 
up  to  it  myself.  It  can't  be  done,  though  ;  she  can't  marry 
a  man  in  disgrace — I  can't  ask  a  woman  to  marry  me  01* 
nothing ;  and,  besides,  there's  the  matter  of  those  infernal 
bonds.  I  can't  clear  that  up,  and  keep  out  of  the  sheriff's- 
fingers." 

"  I  can,"  said  Brown. 

"  How?"  asked  the  ex-broker,  with  staring  eyes. 

"  I'll  lend  the  money." 

The  major  dropped  Brown's  hand. 

"You  heavenly  lunatic!"  said  he.  "  I  always  did  think 
religion  made  fools  of  men  when  they  got  too  much  of  it. 
Then  I  could  go  back  on  the  Street  again  ;  the  boys  would 


BECOMES  A  BUSINESS  MAIS   AGAIN.  431 

be  glad  to  see  me  clear  myself — not  meeting  my  engage- 
ments wouldn't  be  remembered  against  me.  But,  say — 
borrow  money  from  an  old  rival  to  make  myself  right  with 
the  girl  he  loved!  No,  excuse  me.  I've  got  some  sense  of 
honor  left !" 

"  You  mean  you  love  yourself  more  than  you  do  her," 
suggested  Brown.  "I'll  telegraph  about  the  money,  and 
you  write  her  in  the  meantime.  Don't  ruin  her  happiness  for 
life  by  delay  or  trifling."  , 

The  major  became  a  business  man  again. 

"Brown,"  said  he,  "I'll  take  your  offer;  and,  whatever 
comes  of  it,  you'll  have  one  friend  you  can  swear  to  as  long 
as  I  live.  You  haven't  the  money  with  you  ?" 

"No,"  said  Brown ;  "but  you  shall  have  it  in  a  fortnight. 
I'll  telegraph  about  it,  and  go  East  and  settle  the  business 
for  you,  so  you  can  come  back  without  fear." 

"  You're  a  trump  ;  but — don't  think  hard  of  me — money's 
never  certain  till  you  have  it  in  hand.  I'll  write  and  send 
my  letter  East  by  you ;  when  the  matter's  absolutely  set- 
tled, you  can  telegraph  me,  and  mail  her  my  letter.  I'd 
expect  to  be  shot  if  I  made  such  a  proposal  to  any  other 
rival,  but  you're  not  a  man — you're  a  saint.  Confound  you, 
all  the  sermons  I  ever  heard  hadn't  as  much  real  goodness 
in  them  as  I've  heard  the  last  ten  minutes!  But  'twould  be 
awful  for  me  to  write  and  then  have  the  thing  slip  up  !" 

Brown  admitted  the  justice  of  the  major's  plan,  and 
took  the  major  to  his  own  hotel  to  keep  him  from  bad  com- 
pany. 

During  the  whole  evening  the  major  talked  about  busi- 
ness :  but  when,  after  a  night  of  sound  sleep,  the  stu- 
dent awoke,  he  found  the  major  pacing  his  room  with  a 
very  pale  face,  and  heard  him  declare  that  he  had  not  slept 
a  wink. 

Brown  pitied  the  major  in  his  nervous  condition  and  did 
what  he  could  to  alleviate  it.  He  talked  to  him  of  Florence 
Elserly,  of  whom  he  seemed  never  to  tire  of  talking;  he 
spoke  to  him  of  his  own  work  and  hopes.  He  tried  to  pic- 


432  PLEASING  AN    "UNEABTHLY  FELLOW." 

ture  to  the  major  the  happy  future  which  was  awaiting  him, 
but  still  the  major  was  unquiet  and  absent-minded.  Brown 
called  in  a  physician,  to  whom  he  said  his  friend  was  suffer- 
ing from  severe  mental  depression,  brought  on  by  causes 
now  removed ;  but  the  doctor's  prescriptions  failed  to  have 
any  effect.  Finally,  when  Brown  was  to  start  for  the  East, 
the  major,  paler  and  thinner  than  ever,  handed  him  a  letter 
addressed  to  Miss  Elserly. 

"  Brown,"  said  the  major,  "  I  believe  you  won't  lose  any 
money  by  your  goodness.  I  can  make  money  when  I  am 
not  reckless,  and  I'll  make  it  my  duty  to  be  careful  until 
you  are  paid.  The  rest  I  can't  pay,  but  I'm  going  to  try  to 
be  as  good  a  man  as  you  are.  That's  the  sort  of  compensa- 
tion that'll  please  such  an  unearthly  fellow  best,  I  guess." 

When  Hubert  Brown  reached  Bleighton,  he  closed  with 
the  best  offer  that  had  been  made  for  his  farm,  though  the 
offer  itself  was  one  which  made  the  natives  declare  that 
Hubert  Brown  had  taken  leave  of  his  senses.  Then  he  set- 
tled with  the  loser  of  the  bonds,  saw  one  or  two  of  the 
major's  business  acquaintances,  and  prepared  the  way  for 
the  major's  return ;  then  he  telegraphed  the  major  himself, 
Lastly,  he  dressed  himself  with  care  and  called  upon  Miss 
Elserly.  Before  sending  up  his  card,  he  penciled  upon  it 
"avec  nouveUes  a  lire"  which  words  the  servant  scanned  with 
burning  curiosity,  but  of  which  she  could  remember  but 
one,  when  she  tried  to  repeat  them  to  the  grocer's  young 
man,  and  this  one  she  pronounced  "  arick,"  as  was  natural 
enough  in  a  lady  of  her  nationality.  This  much  of  the  mes- 
sage was  speedily  circulated  through  the  town,  and  caused 
at  least  one  curious  person  to  journey  to  a  great  library  in 
the  city  in  quest  of  a  Celtic  dictionary.  As  for  the  recipient 
of  the  card,  she  met  her  old  lover  with  a  face  made  more 
than  beautiful  by  the  conflicting  emotions  which  manifested 
themselves  in  it.  The  interview  was  short.  Mr.  Brown 
said  he  had  accidentally  met  the  major  and  had  successfully 
acted  as  his  agent  in  relieving  him  from  his  embarrassments. 
He  Vll  the  pleasure  of  delivering  a  letter  from  the  major, 


HE  TOOK  MISS  ELSEKLY'S  HAND  IN  HIS  OWN,  AND  STAMMEEED,  "l  CAME 
TO   PLEAD  FOE   THE  MAJOK." 


AN  EVIDENT  MISUNDERSTANDING.  4C5 

and  hoped  it  might  make  Miss  Elserly  as  happy  to  receive 
it  as  it  made  him  to  present  it.  Miss  Elserly  expressed  her 
thanks,  and  then  Mr.  Brown  said  : 

"  Pardon  a  bit  of  egotism  and  reference  to  an  unpleasant 
subject,  Miss  Elserly,  Once  I  told  you  that  I  loved  you; 
in  this  matter  of  the  major's,  I  have  been  prompted  solely 
by  a  sincere  desire  for  your  happiness ;  and  by  acting  in 
this  spirit  I  have  entirely  taken  the  pain  out  of  my  old 
wound.  Mayn't  I,  therefore,  as  the  major's  most  sincere 
well-wisher,  enjoy  once  more  your  friendship  ?" 

Miss  Elserly  smiled  sweetly,  and  extended  her  hand,  and 
Hubert  Brown  went  home  a  very  happy  man.  Yet,  when 
he  called  again,  several  evenings  later,  he  was  not  as  happy 
as  he  had  hoped  to  be  in  Miss  Elserly's  society,  for  the  lady 
herself,  though  courteous  and  cOrdi;il,  seemed  somewhat 
embarrassed  and  Distrait,  and  interrupted  ;he  young  man 
on  several  occasions  when  he  spoke  in  commendation  of 
some  good  quality  of  the  major's.  Again  he  called,  and 
again  the  same  strange  embarrassment,  though  less  in 
degree,  manifested  itself.  Finally,  it  disappeared  alto- 
gether, and  Miss  Elserly  began  to  recover  her  health  and 
spirits.  Even  then  she  did  not  exhibit  as  tender  an  interest 
in  the  major  as  the  student  had  hoped  she  would  do  ;  but, 
as  the  major's  truest  friend,  he  continued  to  sound  his 
praises,  and  to  pay  Miss  Elserly,  in  the  major's  stead,  every 
kind  of  attention  he  could  devise. 

Finally  he  learned  that  the  major  was  in  the  city,  and  he 
hastened  to  inform  Miss  Elserly,  lest,  perhaps,  she  had  not 
heard  so  soon.  The  lady  received  the  announcement  with 
an  exquisite  blush  and  downcast  eyes,  though  she  admitted 
that  the  major  had  himself  apprised  her  of  his  safe  arrival. 
On  this  particular  evening  the  lady  seemed  to  Mr.  Brown 
to  be  personally  more  charming  than  ever;  yet,  on  the 
other^  hand,  the  old  embarrassment  was  so  painfully  evi- 
dent that  Mr.  Brown  made  an  early  departure.  Arrived 
at  home  he  found  a  letter  from  the  major  which  read  as 
follows  : 


436  THE  EXPLANATION. 

"  Mr  DEAB  OLD  FELLOW. — From  the  day  on  which  I  met 
you  in  Colorado  I've  been  trying  to  live  after  your  pattern  ; 
how  I  succeeded  on  the  third  day,  you  may  guess  from  in- 
closed, which  is  a  copy  of  a  letter  I  sent  to  Florence  by  you. 
I've  only  just  got  her  permission  to  send  it  to  you,  though 
I've  teased  her  once  a  week  on  the  subject.  God  bless  you, 
old  fellow.  Don't  worry  on  my  account,  for  I'm  really 
happy.  Yours  truly,  MALLING." 

With  wondering  eyes  Hubert  Brown  read  the  inclosure, 
which  read  as  follows  : 

"Miss  ELSERLY — Three  days  ago,  while  a  fugitive  from 
justice,  yet  honestly  loving  you  more  than  I  ever  loved  any 
other  being,  I  met  Hubert  Brown.  He  has  cared  for  me  as 
if  I  was  his  dearest  friend ;  he  is  going  to  make  good  my 
financial  deficiencies,  and  restore  me  to  respectability.  He 
cannot  have  done  this  out  of  love  for  me,  for  he  knows  noth- 
ing of  me  but  that  which  should  make  him  hate  me,  on  both 
personal  and  moral  grounds.  He  says  he  did  it  because  he 
loved  you,  and  because  he  wants  to  see  you  happy.  Miss 
Elserly,  such  love  cannot  be  a  thing  of  the  past  only,  and  it 
is  so  great  that  in  comparison  with  it  the  best  love  that  1 
have  ever  given  you  seems  beneath  your  notice.  He  is  beg- 
ging me  to  go  back  for  your  sake  ;  he  is  constantly  talking 
to  me  aboub  you  in  a  tone  and  with  a  look  that  shows  how 
strong  is  the  feeling  he  is  sacrificing,  out  of  sincere  regard 
for  you.  Miss  Elserly,  I  never  imagined  the  angels  loving  as 
purely  and  strongly  as  he  does.  He  tells  me  you  still  retain 
some  regard  for  me  ;  the  mere  thought  is  so  great  a  comfort 
that  I  cannot  bear  to  reason  seriously  about  it ;  yet,  if  any 
such  feelings  exist,  I  must  earnestly  beg  of  you,  out  of  the 
sincere  and  faithful  affection  I  have  had  for  you,  to  give  up 
all  thought  of  me  for  ever,  and  give  yourself  entirely  to  that 
most  incomparable  lover,  Hubert  Brown. 

"  Forgive  my  intrusion  and  advice.  I  give  it  because  the 
remembrance  of  our  late  relations  will  assure  you  of  the 


PLEADING   FOE   THE   MAJOR. 

honesty  and  earnestness  of  my  meaning.  I  excuse  myself  by 
the  thought  that  to  try  to  put  into  such  noble  keeping  the 
dearest  treasure  that  I  ever  possessed,  is  a  duty  which 
justifies  my  departure  from  any  conventional  rule.  I  am, 
Miss  Elserly,  as  ever,  your  worshiper.  More  than  this  I 
cannqt  dare  to  think  of  being,  after  my  own  fall  and  the 
overpowering  sense  I  have  of  the  superior  worth  of  another. 
God  bless  you.  ANDREW  MALLINGK" 

Mr.  Brown  hastily  laid  the  letter  aside,  and  again  called 
upon  Miss  Elserly. 

Again  she  met  him  with  many  signs  of  the  embarrass- 
ment whose  cause  he  now  understood  so  well ;  yet  as  he  was 
about  to  deliver  an  awkward  apology  a  single  look  from 
under  Miss  Elserly's  eyebrows  —  only  a  glance,  but  as 
searching  and  eloquent  as  it  was  swift — stopped  his  tongue. 
He  took  Miss  Elserly's  hand  in  his  own  and  stammered  : 

"  I  came  to  plead  for  the  major." 

"  And  I  shan't  listen  to  you,"  said  she,  raising  her  eyes 
with  so  tender  a  light  in  them  that  Hubert  Brown  imme- 
diately hid  the  eyes  themselves  in  his  heart,  lest  the  light 
should  be  lost. 


BUDGE  AND  TODDIE  AT  AUNT  ALICE'S. 

IT.te  following  is  quoted,  by  permission,  from  Mr.  Habberton's  popular  book,  "  OrflE«  - 
PEOPLE'S  CHILDREN," published  by  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York.] 

MRS.  BURTON'S  birthday  dawned  brightly,  and  it  is  not 
surprising  that,  as  it  was  her  first  natal  anniversary 
since  her  marriage  to  a  man  who  had  no  intention  or  ability 
to  cease  being  a  lover — it  is  not  surprising  that  her  ante- 
breakfast  moments  were  too  fully  and  happily  occupied  to 
allow  her  to  even  think  of  two  little  boys  who  had  already 
impressed  upon  her  their  willingness  and  general  ability  to 
think  for  themselves.  As  for  the  young  men  themselves, 
they  awoke  with  the  lark,  and  with  a  heavy  sense  of  respon- 
sibility also.  The  room  of  Mrs.  Burton's  chambermaid 
joined  their  own,  and  the  occupant  of  that  room  having  been 
charged  by  her  mistress  with  the  general  care  of  the  boys 
between  dark  and  daylight,  she  had  gradually  lost  that 
faculty  for  profound  slumber  which  so  notably  distinguishes 
the  domestic  servant  from  all  other  human  beings.  She 
had  grown  accustomed  to  wake  at  the  first  sound  in  the 
boys'  room,  and  on  the  morning  of  her  mistress's  birthday 
the  first  sound  she  heard  was :  "  Tod !" 

No  response  could  be  heard ;  but  a  moment  later  the 
chambermaid  heard  : 

«T— o— o— od!" 

"  Ah — h — h — ow  !"  drawled  a  voice,  not  so  sleepily  but  it 
could  sound  aggrieved. 

"Wake  up,  dear  old  Toddie,  budder — it's  Aunt  Alice's 
birthday  now." 

"Needn't  bweak  my  earzh  open,  if  'tis,  whined  Toddie." 

"  I  only  holloed  in  one  ear,  Tod,"  remonstrated  Budge 

438 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  BIRTHDAY.  439 

"  an'  you  ought  to  love  dear  Aunt  Alice  enough  to  have  that 
hurt  a  little  rather  than  not  wake  up." 

A  series  of  groans,  snarls,  whines,  grunts,  snorts,  and 
remonstrances  semi- articulate  were  heard,  and  at  length 
some  complicated  wriggles  and  convulsive  kicks  were  made 
manifest  to  the  listening  ear,  and  then  Budge  said : 

"  That's  right ;  now  let's  get  up  an'  get  ready.  Say  ;  do 
you  know  that  we  didn't  think  anything  about  having  some 
music.  Don't  you  remember  how  papa  played  the  piano 
last  mamma's  birthday  when  she  came  down  stairs,  an*  how 
happy  it  made  her,  an'  we  danced  around?" 

"  Aw  wight,"  said  Toddie.     "  Let's." 

"  Tell  you  what,"  said  Budge,  "let's  both  bang  the  piano, 
like  mamma  an'  Aunt  Alice  does  together  sometimes." 

"Oh,  yesh!"  exclaimed  Toddie.  "We  can  make  some 
awful  big  bangsh  before  she  can  get  down  to  tell  us  to 
don't."  ' 

Then  there  was  heard  a  scurrying  of  light  feet  as  the  boys 
picked  up  their  various  articles  of  clothing  from  the  corners, 
chairs,  bureau,  table,  etc.,  where  they  had  been  tossed  the 
night  before.  The  chambermaid  hurried  to  their  assistance, 
and  both  boys  were  soon  dressed.  A  plate  containing 
bananas,  and  another  with  the  hard-earned  grapes,  were  on 
the  bureau,  and  the  boys  took  them  and  tiptoed  down  the 
stair  and  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Gwacious!"  said  Toddie,  as  he  placed  his  plate  on  the 
sideboard,  "  maybe  the  gwapes  an'  buttonanoes  has  got  sour. 
I  guesh  we'd  better  try  'em,  like  mamma  does  the  milk  on 
hot  morningsh  when  the  baddy  milkman  don't  come  time 
enough,"  and  Toddie  suited  the  action  to  the  word  by  pluck- 
ing from  a  cluster  the  handsomest  grape  in  sight.  "  Ifink" 
said  he,  smacking  his  lips  with  the  suspicious  air  of  a  pro- 
fessional wine-taster  ;  "  I  fink  they  is  gettin'  sour." 

"  Let's  see,"  said  Budge. 

"  No,"  said  Toddie,  plucking  another  grape  with  one  hand 
while  with  the  other  he  endeavored  to  cover  his  gift.  "  Ize 
bid  enough  to  do  it  all  myself.  Unless,"  he  added,  as  a 


410  SOUR 

happy  inspiration  struck  him,  "  you'll  let  me  help  see  if 
your  buttonanoes  are  sour." 

"  Then  you  can  only  have  one  bite,"  said  Budge,  "  You 
must  let  me  taste  about  six  grapes,  'cause  'twould  take  that 
many  to  make  one  of  your  bites  on  a  banana-." 

"Aw  wight,"  said  Toddie  ;  and  the  boys  proceeded  to 
exchange  duties,  Budge  taking  the  precaution  to  hold  the 
banana  himself,  so  that  his  brother  should  not  abstractedly 
sample  a  second  time,  and  Toddie  doling  out  the  grapes 
with  careful  count. 

"  They  are  a  little  sour,"  said  Budge,  with  a  wry  face. 
"  Perhaps  some  other  bunch  is  better.  I  think  we'd  better 
try  each  one,  don't  you  ?" 

"  An'  each  one  of  the  buttonanoes,  too,"  suggested  Tod- 
die. "  That  one  wazh  pretty  good,  but  maybe  some  of  the 
others  isn't." 

The  proposition  was  accepted,  and  soon  each  banana  had 
its  length  reduced  by  a  fourth,  and  the  grape-clusters  dis- 
played a  fine  development  of  wood.  Then  Budge  seemed  to 
realize  that  his  present  was  not  as  sightly  as  it  might  be> 
for  he  carefully  closed  the  skins  at  the  ends,  and  turned  the 
unbroken  ends  to  the  front  as  deftly  as  if  he  were  a  born 
retailer  of  fruit. 

This  done,  he  exclaimed :  "  Oh !  we  want  our  cards  on 
em,  else  how  will  she  know  who  they  came  from?" 

"We'll  be  here  to  tell  her,"  said  Toddie. 

"  Huh  ! "  said  Budge  ;  "  That  wouldn't  make  her  half  so 
happy.  Don't  you  know  how  when  cousin  Florence  gets 
presents  of  flowers,  she's  always  happiest  when  she's  lookin' 
at  the  card  that  comes  with  'em?" 

"  Aw  right,"  said  Toddie,  hurrying  into  the  parlor,  and 
returning  with  the  cards  of  a  lady  and  gentleman,  taken  hap- 
hazard from  his  aunt's  card-receiver. 

"  Now,  we  must  write  '  Happy  Birthday '  on  the  backs 
of  'em,"  said  Budge,  exploring  his  pockets,  and  extracting 
a  stump  of  a  lead-pencil.  "  Now,"  continued  Budge,  leaning 
over  the  card,  and  displaying  all  the  facial  contortions  of 


MUSIC   BY  THE   BAND.  441 

the  unpracticed  writer,  as  lie  laboriously  printed,  in  large 
letters,  speaking,  as  he  worked,  a  letter  at  a  time  : 

«H— A— P— P— E  B— U— E— F— D— A— Happy 
Birthday.  Now,  you  must  hold  the  pencil  for  yours,  or 
else  it  won't  be  so  sweet — that's  what  mamma  says." 

Toddie  took  the  pencil  in  his  pudgy  hand,  and  Budge 
guided  the  hand  ;  and  two  juvenile  heads  touched  each  other, 
and  swayed,  and  twisted,  and  bobbed  in  unison  until  the 
work  was  completed. 

"  Now,  I  think  she  ought  to  come,"  said  Budge.  (Break- 
fast time  was  still  more  than  an  hour  distant.)  "  Why,  the 
rising-bell  hasn't  rung  yet !  Let's  ring  it!" 

The  boys  fought  for  possession  of  the  bell ;  but  superior 
might  conquered,  and  Budge  marched  up  and  down  the  hall, 
ringing  with  the  enthusiasm  and  duration  peculiar  to  the 
amateur. 

"  Bless  me !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Burton,  hastening  to  com- 
plete her  toilet.  "  How  time  does  fly — sometimes  !  " 

Mr.  Burton  saw  something  in  his  wife's  face  that  seemed 
to  call  for  lover-like  treatment ;  but  it  was  not  without  a 
sense  of  injury  that  he  exclaimed,  immediately  after,  as  he 
drew  forth  his  watch : 

"I  declare  !  I  would  make  an  affidavit  that  we  hadn't 
been  awake  half  an  hour.  Ah!  I  forgot  to  wind  up  my 
watch  last  night." 

The  boys  hurried  into  the  parlor. 

"  I  hear  'em  trampin'  around ! "  exclaimed  Budge,  in 
great  excitement.  "  There  ! — the  piano's  shut !  Isn't  that 
too  mean!  Oh,  TU  tell  you — here's  Uncle  Harry's  violin." 

"Then  whatsh  I  goin'  to  play  on?"  asked  Toddie, 
dancing  frantically  about. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Budge,  dropping  the  violin,  and 
hurrying  to  the  floor  above,  from  which  he  speedily  returned 
with  a  comb.  A  bound  volume  of  the  Portfolio  lay  upon 
the  table,  and  opening  this,  Badge  tore  the  tissue  paper 
from  one  of  the  etchings  and  wrapped  the  comb  in  it. 

"There  !"  said  he,  "you  fiddle  an'  I'll  blow  the  comb. 


442  LESSONS  IN  ARITHMETIC. 

Goodness  !  why  dorit  they  come  down  ?  Oh,  we  forgot  to- 
put  pennies  under  the  plate,  and  we  don't  know  how  many 
years  old  to  put  'em  for." 

"  An'  we  ain't  got  no  pennies,"  said  Toddie. 

"  I  know,"  said  Budge,  hurrying  to  a  cabinet  in  a  drawer 
of  which  his  uncle  kept  the  nucleus  of  a  collection  of  Ameri- 
can coinage.  "This  kind  of  pennies,"  Budge  continued, 
"isn't  so  pretty  as  our  kind,  but  they're  bigger,  an'  they'll 
look  better  on  a  table-cloth.  Now,  how  old  do  you  think 
she  is?" 

"  I  dunno,"  said  Toddie,  going  into  a  reverie  of  hopeless 
conjecture.  "She's  about  as  big  as  you  and  me  put 
togevver." 

"  Well,"  said  Budge,  "  you're  four  an'  I'm  six,  an*  four  an* 
six  is  ten — I  guess  ten'll  be  about  the  thing." 

Mrs.  Burton's  plate  was  removed,  and  the  pennies  were 
deposited  in  a  circle.  There  was  some  painful  counting  and 
recounting,  and  many  disagreements,  additions  and  subtrac- 
tions. Finally,  the  pennies  were  arranged  in  four  rows,  two 
of  three  each  and  two  of  two  each,  and  Budge  counted  the 
threes  and  Toddie  verified  the  twos ;  and  Budge  was  adding 
the  four  sums  together,  when  footsteps  were  heard  descend- 
ing the  stairs. 

Budge  hastily  dropped  the  surplus  coppers  upon  the 
four  rows,  replaced  the  plate,  and  seized  the  comb  as  Tod- 
die placed  the  violin  against  his  knee,  as  he  had  seen  small, 
itinerant  Italians  do.  A  second  or  two  later,  as  the  host  and 
hostess  entered  the  dining-room,  there  arose  a  sound  which 
caused  Mrs.  Burton  to  clap  her  fingers  to  her  ears,  while  her 
husband  exclaimed : 

"'Scat!" 

Then  both  boys  dropped  their  instruments,  Toddie  find- 
ing the  ways  of  his  own  feet  seriously  compromised  by  the 
strings  of  the  violin,  while  both  children  turned  happy  faces 
toward  their  aunt,  and  shouted  : 

"  Happy  Burfday !" 

Mr.  Burton  hurried  to  the  rescue  of  his  darling  instru- 


INSTRUCTIONS  OH  BIRTHDAY  CELEBRATION.  443 

iaent,  while  his  wife  gave  each  boy  an  appreciative  kiss, 
and  showed  them  a  couple  of  grateful  tears.  Then  her  eye 
was  caught  by  the  fruit  on  the  sideboard,  and  she  read  the 
cards  aloud : 

"  Mrs.  Frank  Rommery — this  is  like  her  effusiveness. 
I've  never  met  her  but  once,  but  I  suppose  her  bananas 
must  atone  for  her  lack  of  manners.  Why,  Charley  Crewne ! 
Dear  me  !  What  memories  some  men  have  !" 

A  cloud  came  upon  Mr.  Burton's  brow.  Charlie  Crewne 
had  been  one  of  his  rivals  for  Miss  Mayton's  hand,  and  Mrs. 
Burton  was  looking  a  trifle  thoughtful,  and  her  husband  was 
as  unreasonable  as  newly-made  husbands  are  sure  to  be, 
when  Mrs.  Burton  exclaimed  : 

"  Some  one  has  been  picking  the  grapes  off  in  the  most, 
shameful  manner.  Boys  !" 

"Ain't  from  no  Rommerys  an'  Crewnes,"  said  Toddie. 
"Theysh  from  me  an'  Budge,  an'  we  dzust  tasted  'em  to  see 
if  they'd  got  sour  in  the  night." 

"Where  did  the  cards  come  from?"  asked  Mrs.  Burton. 

"Out  of  the  basket  in  the  parlor,"  said  Budge;  "but 
the  back  is  the  nice  part  of  'em." 

Mrs.  Burton's  thoughtful  expression  and  her  husband's 
frown  disappeared  together,  as  they  seated  themselves  at 
the  table.  Both  boys  wriggled  vigorously  until  their  aunt 
raised  her  plate,  and  then  Budge  exclaimed : 

"A  penny  for  each  year,  you  know." 

"  Thirty-one ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Burton,  after  counting 
the  heap.  "How  complimentary  !" 

"What  doesh  you  do  for  little  boys  on  your  bifeday?" 
asked  Toddie,  after  breakfast  was  served.  "  Mamma  does 
lots  of  fings." 

"  Yes,"  said  Budge,  "  she  says  she  thinks  people  ought 
to  get  their  own  happy  by  makin'  other  people  happy.  An* 
mamma  knows  better  than  you,  you  know,  'cause  she's  been 
married  longest." 

Although  Mrs.  Burton  admitted  the  facts,  the  inference 
seemed  scarcely  natural,  and  sha  said  so. 


444  THE  LAWRENCE-BURTON  ANSWER. 

"Well — a — a — a — a — a/i?/how,"  said  Toddie,  "mamma 
alwavs  has  parties  on  her  bifeday,  an'  we  hazh  all  the  cake 
we  want." 

"You  shall  be  happy  to-day,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Burton ; 
"for  a  few  friends  will  be  in  to  see  me  this  afternoon,  and  I 
am  going  to  have  a  nice  little  lunch  for  them,  and  you  shall 
lunch  with  us,  if  you  will  be  very  good  until  then,  and  keep 
yourselves  clean  and  neat." 

"Aw  wight,"  said  Toddie.     "Izhn't  it  most  time  now?" 

"  Tod's  all  stomach,"  said  Budge,  with  some  contempt. 
"  Say,  Aunt  Alice,  I  hope  you  won't  forget  to  have  some 
fruit-cake.  That's  the  kind  we  like  best." 

"  You'll  come  home  very  early,  Harry?"  asked  Mrs.  Bur- 
ton, ignoring  her  nephew's  question. 

"By  noon,  at  furthest,"  said  the  gentleman.  "I  only 
want  to  see  my  morning  letters,  and  fill  any  orders  that  may 
be  in  them." 

"  "What  are  you  coming  so  early  for,  Uncle  Harry  ?" 
asked  Budge. 

"  To  take  Aunt  Alice  riding,  old  boy,"  said  Mr.  Burton. 

"  Oh !  just  listen,  Tod !  Won't  that  be  jolly  ?  Uncle 
Harry's  going  to  take  us  riding  !" 

"  I  said  I  was  going  to  take  your  Aunt  Alice,  Budge," 
said  Mr.  Burton. 

"  I  heard  you,"  said  Budge,  "  but  that  won't  trouble  us 
any.  She  always  likes  to  talk  to  you  better  than  she  does 
to  us.  When  are  we  going?" 

Mr.  Burton  asked  his  wife,  in  German,  whether  the  Law- 
rence-Burton assurance  was  not  charmingly  natural,  and 
Mrs.  Burton  answered  in  the  same  tongue  that  it  was,  but 
was  none  the  less  deserving  of  rebuke,  and  that  she  felt  it 
to  be  her  duty  to  tone  it  down  in  her  nephews.  Mr.  Burton 
wished  her  joy  of  the  attempt,  and  asked  a  number  of 
searching  questions  about  success  already  attained,  until 
Mrs.  Burton  was  glad  to  see  Toddie  come  out  of  a  brown 
study  and  hear  him  say  : 

"  I  fink  that  placesh  where  the  river  is  bwok  e  off  izh  the 
nicest  placesh." 


"WANTSH  TO  GO  A-WIDIN*!"  445 

"  What  does  the  child  mean  ?"  asked  his  aunt. 

"Don't  you  know  where  we  went  last  year,  an*  you 
stopped  us  from  seein'.  how  far  we  could  hang  over,  Uncle 
llarry  ?"  said  Budge. 

"  Oh — Passaic  Falls  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Burton. 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Budge. 

"  Old  riverzh  bwoke  wight  in  two  there,"  said  Toddie, 
"  an'  a  piece  of  it's  way  up  in  the  air,  an'  anuvver  piece  izh 
way  down  in  big  hole  in  the  shtones.  Thafsli  where  I  want 
to  go  widin'." 

"  Listen,  Toddy,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "  We  like  to  take 
you  riding  with  us  at  most  times,  but  to-day  we  prefer  to  go 
alone.  You  and  Budge  will  stay  at  home — we  shan't  be 
gone  more  than  two  hours." 

"  Wantsh  to  go  a- widin' !"  exclaimed  Toddie. 

"  I  know  you  do,  dear,  but  you  must  wait  until  some 
other  day,"  said  the  lady. 

"But  I  ivantsli  to  go,"  Toddie  explained. 

"  And  I  don't  want  you  to,  so  you  can't,"  said  Mrs.  Bur- 
ton, in  a  tone  which  would  reduce  any  reasonable  person  to 
hopelessness.  But  Toddie,  in  spite  of  manifest  astonish- 
ment, remarked  : 

"  Wantsh  to  go  a-widin'." 

"Noiv  the  fight  is  on,"  murmured  Mr.  Burton  to  himself. 
Then  he  arose  hastily  from  the  table,  and  said: 

"  I  think  I'll  try  to  catch  the  earlier  train,  my  dear,  as  I 
am  coming  back  so  soon." 

Mrs.  Burton  arose  to  bid  her  husband  Good-by,  and  was 
kissed  with  more  than  usual  tenderness,  and  then  held  at 
arm's  length,  while  manly  eyes  looked  into  her  own  with  an 
expression  which  she  found  untranslatable — for  two  hours  at 
least.  Mrs.  Burton  saw  her  husband  fairly  on  his  way,  and 
then  she  returned  to  the  dining-room,  led  Toddie  into  the 
parlor,  took  him  upon  her  lap,  wound  her  arms  tenderly 
about  him,  and  said  : 

"  Now,  Toddie,  dear,  listen  carefully  to  what  Aunt  Alice 
tells  you.  There  are  some  reasons  why  you  boys  should 


446  TODDIE'S  PERSISTENCE. 

not  go  with  us  to-day,  and  Aunt  Alice  means  just  what  she 
says  when  she  tells  you  you  can't  go  with  us.  If  you  were 
to  ask  a  hundred  times  it  would  not  make  the  slightest  bit 
of  difference.  You  cannot  go,  and  you  must  stop  thinking 
about  it." 

Toddie  listened  intelligently  from  beginning  to  end,  and 
replied : 

"But  I  wantsh  to  go" 

"  And  you  can't.     That  ends  the  matter." 

"No,  it  don't,"  said  Toddie,  "not  a  single  bittle.  I 
wantsh  to  go  badder  than  ever." 

"But  you  are  not  going." 

"  I  wantsh  to  go  so  baddy,"  said  Toddy,  beginning  to  cry. 

"  I  suppose  you  do,  and  auntie  is  very  sorry  for  you," 
said  Mr.  Burton,  kindly ;  "  but  that  does  not  alter  the  case. 
When  grown  people  say  *  No !'  little  boys  must  understand 
that  they  mean  it." 

"  But  what  I  wantsh  izh  to  go  a-widin'  wif  you,"  said 
Toddie. 

"  And  what  /  want  is,  that  you  shall  stay  at  home ;  so 
you  must,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  Let  us  have  no  more  talk 
about  it  now.  Shouldn't  you  like  to  go  into  the  garden  and 
pick  some  strawberries  all  for  yourself?" 

"  No ;  I'd  like  to  go  widin'." 

"  Toddie,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  "  don't  let  me  hear  one  moro 
word  about  riding." 

"Well,  I  want  to  go." 

"  Toddie,  I  will  certainly  have  to  punish  you  if  you  say 
any  more  on  this  subject,  and  that  will  make  me  very  un- 
happy. You  don't  want  to  make  auntie  unhappy  on  her 
birthday,  do  you  ?" 

"No;  but  I  do  want  to  go  a-widin'." 

"  Listen  Toddie,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  with  an  imperious 
stamp  of  her  foot,  and  a  sudden  loss  of  her  entire  stock  of 
patience.  "  If  you  say  one  more  word  about  that  trip,  I 
will  lock  you  up  in  the  attic  chamber,  where  you  were  day 
before  yesterday,  and  Budge  shall  not  be  with  you." 


TODDIE  SUDDENLY  FOUND  HIMSELF  CLASPED  TIGHTLY  IN  HIS  AUNT'S  ARMS,  IN  WHICH 
POSITION  HE  KICKED,  PUSHED;  SCREAMED,  AND  ROARED,  DURING  THEJPASSAGE  OF 
TWO  FLIGHTS  OF  STAIRS. 


448 


CHILDREN  AND  GROWN  FOLKS.  449* 

Toddie  gave  vent  to  a  perfect  torrent  of  tears,  and 
screamed  : 

"  A — h — h — li !  I  don't  want  to  be  locked  up,  an'  I  do 
want  to  go  a-widin'." 

Toddie  suddenly  found  himself  clasped  tigntly  in  his 
aunt's  arms,  in  which  position  he  kicked,  pushed,  screamed, 
and  roared,  during  the  passage  of  two  flights  of  stairs.  The 
moment  of  his  final  incarceration  was  marked  by  a  piercing 
shriek  which  escaped  from  the  attic  window,  causing  the 
dog  Jerry  to  retire  precipitately  from  a  pleasing  lounging- 
place  on  the  well-  curb,  and  making  a  passing  farmer  to  rein 
up  his  horses,  and  maintain  a  listening  position  for  the 
space  of  five  minutes.  Meanwhile  Mrs.  Burton  descended 
to  the  parlor,  more  flushed,  untidy  and  angry  than  one  had 
ever  before  seen  her.  She  soon  encountered  the  gaze  of  her 
nephew  Budge,  and  it  was  so  full  of  solemnity  that  Mrs- 
Burton's  anger  departed  in  an  instant. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  be  carried  up-stairs  screamin' 
an'  put  in  a  lonely  room,  just  'cause  you  wanted  to  go 
riding  ?"  asked  Budge. 

Mrs.  Burton  was  unable  to  imagine  herself  in  any  such 
position,  but  replied : 

"  I  should  never  be  so  foolish  as  to  keep  on  wanting 
what  I  knew  I  could  not  have." 

"Why!"  exclaimed  Budge.  "Are  grown  folks  as  smart 
as  all  that  ?" 

Mrs.  Burton's  conscience  smote  her  not  over-lightly,  and 
she  hastened  to  change  the  subject,  and  to  devote  herself 
assiduously  to  Budge,  as  if  to  atone  for  some  injury  which 
she  might  have  done  to  his  brother.  An  occasional  howl 
which  fell  from  the  attic-window  increased  her  zeal  for 
Budge's  comfort.  Under  each  one,  however,  her  resolution 
grew  weaker,  and  finally,  with  a  hypocritical  excuse  to 
Budge,  Mrs.  Burton  hurried  up  to  the  door  of  Toddie's 
prison,  and  said  through  the  keyhole : 

"Toddie?" 

"What?"  said  Toddie. 


450  CONDITIONS  FOB  BEING  GOOD. 

"Will  you  be  a  good-boy,  now!" 

"  Yesh,  if  you'll  take  me  a-widin'." 

Mrs.  Burton  turned  abruptly  away,  and  simply  flew  down 
the  stairs.  Budge,  who  awaited  her  at  the  foot,  instinct- 
ively stood  aside,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  My !  I  thought  you  was  goin'  to  tumble !  Why  didn't 
you  bring  him  down  ?" 

"  Bring  who  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Burton,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  /know  what  you  went  up-stairs  for?"  said  Budge. 
"Your  eyes  told  me  all  about  it." 

"  You're  certainly  a  rather  inconvenient  companion,"  said 
Mrs.  Burton,  averting  her  face,  "  and  I  want  you  to  run 
home  and  ask  how  your  mamma  and  baby-sister  are.  Don't 
stay  long ;  remember  that  lunch  will  be  earlier  than  usual 
to-day." 

Away  went  Budge,  and  Mrs.  Burton  devoted  herself  to 
thought  and  self-questioning.  Unquestioning  obedience 
had  been  her  own  duty  since  she  could  remember,  yet  she 
was  certain  that  her  will  was  as  strong  as  Toddie's.  If  she 
had  been  always  able  to  obey,  certainly  the  unhappy  little 
boy  in  the  attic  was  equally  capable — why  should  he  not  do 
it?  Perhaps,  she  admitted  to  herself,  she  had  inherited  a 
faculty  in  this  direction,  and  perhaps — yes,  certainly,  Tod- 
die  had  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  How  was  she  to  over- 
come the  defect  in  his  disposition ;  or  was  she  to  do  it  at 
all  ?  Was  it  not  something  with  which  no  one  temporarily 
having  a  child  in  charge  should  interfere  ?  As  she  ponder- 
ed, an  occasional  scream  from  Toddie  helped  to  unbend  the 
severity  of  her  principles,  but  suddenly  her  eye  rested  upon 
a  picture  of  her  husband,  and  she  .  seemed  to  see  in  one  of 
the  eyes  a  quizzical  expression.  All  her  determination 
came  back  in  an  instant  with  heavy  reinforcements,  and 
Budge  came  back  a  few  minutes  later.  His  bulletins  from 
home,  and  his  stores  of  experiences  en  route  consumed  but 
a  few  moments,  and  then  Mrs.  Burton  proceeded  to  dress 
tor  her  ride.  To  exclude  Toddie's  screams  she  closed  her 
door  tightly,  but  Toddie's  voice  was  one  with  which  all 


"WE'S  GOIN'  A-WIDIN'."  451 

timber  seemed  in  sympathy,  and  it  pierced  door  and  window 
apparently  without  effort.  Gradually,  however,  it  seemed 
to  cease,  and  with  the  growing  infrequency  of  his  howls  and 
the  increasing  feebleness  of  their  utterance,  Mrs.  Burton's 
spirits  revived.  Dressing  leisurely,  she  ascended  Toddie's 
prison  to  receive  his  declaration  of  penitence  and  to  accord 
a  gracious  pardon.  She  knocked  softly  at  the  door,  and 
said : 

"Toddie?" 

There  was  no  response,  so  Mrs.  Burton  knocked  and 
called  with  more  energy  than  before,  but  without  reply.  A 
terrible  fear  occurred  to  her !  she  had  heard  of  children 
who  screamed  themselves  to  death  when  angry.  Hastily 
she  opened  the  door,  and  saw  Toddie  tear-stained  and  dirty, 
lying  on  the  floor,  fast  asleep.  She  stooped  over  him  to  be 
sure  that  he  still  breathed,  and  then  the  expression  on  his 
sweetly  parted  lips  was  such  that  she  could  not  help  kiss- 
ing them.  Then  she  raised  the  pathetic,  desolate  little  figure 
softly  in  her  arms,  and  the  little  head  dropped  upon  her 
shoulder  and  nestled  close  to  her  neck,  and  one  little  arm 
was  clasped  tightly  around  her  throat,  and  a  soft  voice  mur- 
mured : 

"  I  wantsh  to  go  a'widin'." 

And  just  then  Mr.  Burton  entered,  and,  with  a  most  ex- 
asperating affection  of  ingenuousness  and  uncertainty,  asked : 

"  Did  you  conquer  his  will,  my  dear  ?" 

His  wife  annihilated  him  with  a  look,  and  led  the  way  to 
the  dining-room  ;  meanwhile  Toddie  awoke,  straightened 
himself,  rubbed  his  eyes,  recognized  his  uncle  and  exclaimed : 

"  Uncle  Harry,  does  you  know  where  we's  goin'  this  after- 
noon ?  We's  goin'  a-widin'." 

And  Mr.  Burton  hid  in  his  napkin  all  of  his  face  that 
was  below  his  eyes,  and  his  wife  wished  that  his  eyes  might 
have  been  hidden,  too,  for  never  in  her  life  had  she  been  so 
averse  to  having  her  own  eyes  looked  into. 

The  extreme  saintliness  of  both  boys  during  the  after- 
noon's ride  took  the  sting  out  of  Mrs.  Burton's  defeat 


452  THE  BIRTHDAY  PARTY. 

They  gabbled  to  each  other  about  flowers  and  leaves  and 
birds,  and  they  assumed  ownership  of  the  few  Summer 
clouds  that  were  visible,  and  made  sundry  exchanges  of  them 
with  each.  "When  the  dog  Jerry,  who  had  surreptitiously 
followed  the  carriage  and  grown  weary,  was  taken  in  by  his 
master,  they  even  allowed  him  to  lie  at  their  feet  without 
kicking,  pinching  his  ears,  or  pulling  his  tail. 

As  for  Mrs.  Burton,  no  right-minded  husband  could  will- 
fully torment  his  wife  upon  her  birthday,  so  she<soon  forgot 
the  humiliation  of  the  morning,  and  came  home  witl_  superb 
spirits  and  matchless  complexion  for  the  little  party.'  Her 
guests  soon  began  to  arrive,  and  after  the  company  was 
assembled  Mrs.  Burton's  chambermaid  ushered  in  Budge 
and  Toddie,  each  in  spotless  attire,  and  the  dog  Jerry  ush- 
ered himself  in,  and  Toddie  saw  him  and  made  haste  to  inter- 
view him,  and  the  two  got  inextricably  mixed  about  the  legs 
of  a  light  jardiniere,  and  it  came  down  with  a  crash,  and 
then  the  two  were  sent  into  disgrace,  which  suited  them  ex- 
actly ;  although  there  was  a  difference  between  them  as  to 
whether  the  dog  Jerry  should  seek  and  enjoy  the  seclusion 
upon  which  his  heart  was  evidently  intent. 

Then  Budge  retired  with  a  face  full  of  fatherly  solici- 
tude, and  Mrs.  Burton  was  enabled  to  devote  herself  to  the 
friends  to  whom  she  had  not  previously  been  able  to  address 
a  single  consecutive  sentence. 

Mrs.  Burton  occasionally  suggested  to  her  husband  that 
it  might  be  well  to  see  where  the  boys  were,  and  what  they 
were  doing ;  but  that  gentleman  had  seldom  before  found 
himself  the  only  man  among  a  dozen  comely  and  intelligent 
ladies,  and  he  was  too  conscious  of  the  variety  of  such  expe- 
riences to  trouble  himself  about  a  couple  of  people  who  had 
unlimited  ability  to  keep  themselves  out  of  trouble ;  so  the 
boys  were  undisturbed  for  the  space  of  two  hours.  A  sud- 
den Summer  shower  came  up  in  the  meantime,  and  a  senti- 
mental young  lady  requested  the  song  "Bain  upon  the 
Roof,"  and  Mrs.  Burton  and  her  husband  began  to  render 
it  as  a  duet ;  but  in  the  middle  of  the  second  stanza  Mrs. 


453 

Burton  began  to  cough,  Mr.  Burton  sniffed  the  air  appre- 
hensively, while  several  of  the  ladies  started  to  their  feet 
while  others  turned  pale.  The  air  of  the  room  was  evi- 
dently filled  with  smoke. 

"There  can't  be  any  danger,  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Burton. 
•"  You  all  know  what  the  American  domestic  servant  is.  I 
suppose  our  cook,  with  her  delicate  sense  of  the  appropri- 
ate, is  relighting  her  fire,  and  has  the  kitchen  doors  wide 
open,  so  that  all  the  smoke  may  escape  through  the  house 
instead  of  the  chimney.  I'll  go  and  stop  it." 

The  mere  mention  of  servants  had  its  usual  effect;  the 
ladies  began  at  once  that  animated  conversation  which  this 
subject  has  always  inspired,  and  which  it  will  probably 
continue  to  inspire  until  all  housekeepers  gather  in  that 
happy  land,  one  of  whose  charms  it  is  that  the  American 
kitchen  is  undiscernible  within  its  borders,  and  the  purified 
domestic  may  stand  before  her  mistress  without  needing  a 
scolding.  But  one  nervous  young  lady,  whose  agitation 
was  being  manifested  by  her  feet  alone,  happened  to  touch 
with  the  toe  of  her  boot  the  turn-screw  of  the  hot-air  regis- 
ter. Instantly  she  sprang  back  and  uttered  a  piercing 
scream,  while  from  the  register  there  arose  a  thick  column 
of  smoke. 

"  Fire !"  screamed  one  lady. 

"  Water !"  shrieked  another. 

"  Oh !"  shouted  several  in  chorus. 

Some  ran  up-stairs,  others  into  the  rainy  street,  the 
nervous  young  lady  fainted,  a  business-like  young  matron, 
who  had  for  years  been  maturing  plans  of  operation  in  case 
of  fire,  hastily  swept  into  a  table-cover  a  dozen  books  in 
special  morocco  bindings,  and  hurried  through  the  rain 
with  them  to  a  house  several  hundred  feet  away,  while  the 
faithful  dog  Jerry,  scenting  the  trouble  afar  off,  hurried 
home  and  did  his  duty  to  the  best  of  his  ability  by  barking 
and  snapping  furiously  at  every  one,  and  galloping  frantic- 
ally through  the  house,  leaving  his  mark  upon  almost  every 
square  yard  of  the  carpet.  Meanwhile  Mr.  Burton  hurried 


454  A  BEAUTIFUL  BONFIRE. 

tip-stairs  coatless,  with  disarranged  hair,  dirty  hands, 
smirched  face,  and  assured  the  ladies  that  there  was  no  dan- 
ger, while  Budge  and  Toddie,  the  former  deadly  pale,  and 
the  latter  almost  apoplectic  in  color,  sneaked  up  to  their 
own  chamber. 

The  company  dispersed  :  ladies  who  had  expected  car- 
riages did  not  wait  for  them,  but  struggled  to  the  extreme 
verge  of  politeness  for  the  use  of  such  umbrellas  and  water- 
proof-cloaks as  Mrs.  Burton  could  supply.  Fifteen  minutes 
later  the  only  occupant  of  the  parlor  was  the  dog  Jerry,  who 
lay,  with  alert  head,  in  the  centre  of  a  large  Turkish  chair. 
Mrs.  Burton,  tenderly  supported  by  her  husband,  descended 
the  stair,  and  contemplated  with  tightly  compressed  lips 
and  blazing  eyes  the  disorder  of  her  desolated  parlor. 
When,  however,  she  reached  the  dining-room  and  beheld 
the  exquisitely-set  lunch-table,  to  the  arrangement  of  which 
she  had  devoted  hours  of  thought  in  preceding  days  and 
weeks,  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,"  remarked  Budge,  who  appeared 
suddenly  and  without  invitation,  and  whose  consciousness 
of  good  intention  made  him  as  adamant  before  the  indig- 
nant frowns  of  his  uncle  and  aunt,  "  I  always  think  bonfires 
is  the  nicest  things  about  celebrations,  an'  Tod  an'  me  have 
been  carryin'  sticks  for  two  days  to  make  a  big  bonfire  in 
the  back  yard  to-day.  But  then  it  rained,  an'  rainy  sticks 
won't  burn — I  guess  we  found  that  out  last  Thanksgivin' 
Day.  So  we  thought  we'd  make  one  in  the  cellar,  'cause 
the  top  is  all  tin,  an'  the  bottom's  all  dirt,  an'  it  can't  rain 
in  there  at  all.  An'  we  got  lots  of  newspapers  and  kindlin'- 
wood,  an'  put  some  kerosene  on  it,  an'  it  blazed  up  beauti- 
ful, an'  we  was  just  comin'  up  to  ask  you  all  down  to  look  at 
it,  when  in  came  Uncle  Harry,  an'  banged  me  against  the 
wall  an'  Tod  into  the  coal-heap,  an'  threw  a  mean  old  dirty 
carpet  on  top  of  it,  an'  wet  ed  it  all  over." 

"  Little  boysh  never  can  do  anyfing  nysh  wivout  bein'  made 
to  don't,"  said  Toddie.  "  Dzust  see  what  an  awful  big  splin- 
ter I  got  in  my  hand  when  I  was  from'  wood  on  the  fire !  I 


TORCHLIGHT  PROCESSION.    .  451> 

didn't  cry  a  lit  about  it  then,  'cause  I  fought  I  was  makin' 
uvver  folks  happy,  like  the  Lord  wants  little  boysh  to.  But 
they  didn't  get  happy,  so  now  I  am  goin'  to  cry  'bout  the 
splinter !" 

And  Toddie  raised  a  howl  which  was  as  much  superior 
to  his  usual  cry  as  things  made  to  order  generally  are  over 
the  ordinary  supply. 

"  "We  had  a  torchlight  procession,  too,"  said  Budge.  "  We 
had  to  have  it  in  the  attic,  but  it  wasn't  very  nice.  There 
wasn't  any  trees  up  there  for  the  light  to  dance  around 'on, 
like  it  does  on  'lection-day  nights.  So  we  just  stopped,  an* 
would  have  felt  real  doleful  if  we  hadn't  thought  of  the 
bonfire." 

"  "Where  did  you  leave  the  torches  ?"  asked  Mr.  Burton,, 
springing  from  his  chair,  and  lifting  his  wife  to  her  feet  at 
the  same  time. 

"  I — I  dunno,"  said  Budge,  after  a  moment  of  thought. 

"Froed  'em  in  a  closet  where  the  rags  is,  so's  not  todyty 
the  nice  floor  wif  'em,"  said  Toddie. 

Mr.  Burton  hurried  up-stairs  and  extinguished  a  smol- 
dering heap  of  rags,  while  his  wife,  truer  to  herself  than 
she  imagined  she  was,  drew  Budge  to  her,  and  said,  kindly : 

"  Wanting  to  make  people  happy,  and  doing  it  are  two 
very  different  things,  Budge." 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  they  was,"  said  Budge,  with  an 
emphasis  which  explained  much  that  was  left  unsaid. 

"  Little  boysh  is  goosies  for  tryin'  to  make  big  folksh 
happy  at  all,"  said  Toddie,  beginning  again  to  cry. 

"  Oh,  no,  they're  not,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  taking  the 
sorrowful  child  into  her  lap.  "  But  they  don't  always  under- 
stand how  best  to  do  it,  so  they  ought  to  ask  big  folks  before 
they  begin." 

"  Then  there  wouldn't  be  no  s'prises,"  complained  Tod- 
die. "  Say ;  izh  we  goin'  to  eat  all  this  supper  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,  if  we  can,"  sighed  Mrs.  Burton. 

"  I  guesh  we  can — Budgie  an*  me,"  said  Toddie.  "  An* 
won't  we  be  glad  all  them  wimrnens  wented  away !" 


456  rEFFOBT  TO  MAKE   OTHER  FOLKS  HAPPY. 

Tliat  evening,  after  the  boys  had  retired,  Mrs.  Burton 
seemed  a  little  uneasy  of  mind,  and  at  length  she  said  to  her 
husband : 

"  I  feel  guilty  at  never  having  directed  the  boys'  devo- 
tions since  they  have  been  here,  and  I  know  no  better  time 
than  the  present  in  which  to  begin." 

Mr.  Burton's  eyes  followed  his  wife  reverently  as  she 
left  the  room.  The  service  she  proposed  to  render  the 
children  she  had  sometimes  performed  for  himself,  with 
results  for  which  he  could  not  be  grateful  enough,  and  yet 
it  was  not  with  unalloyed  anticipation  that  he  softly  fol- 
lowed her  up  the  stair.  Mrs.  Burton  went  into  the  chamber 
and  found  the  boys  playing  battering-ram,  each  with  a  pil- 
low in  front  of  him. 

"  Children,"  said  she,  "  have  you  said  your  prayers?" 

"No,"  said  Budge  ;  "  somebody's  got  to  be  knocked  down 
first.  Then  we  will." 

A  sudden  tumble  by  Toddie  was  the  signal  for  devotional 
exercises,  and  both  boys  knelt  beside  the  bed. 

"Now,  darlings,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  "you  have  made 
some  sad  mistakes  to-day,  and  they  should  teach  you  that, 
even  when  you  want  most  to  do  right,  you  need  to  be  helped 
by  somebody  better.  Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"Jdo,"  said  Budge.     "Lots." 

"  /  don't,"  said  Toddie.  "  More  help  I  getsh,  the  worse 
fings  is.  Guesh  I'll  do  fings  all  alone  affer  thish." 

"  I  know  what  to  say  to  the  Lord  to-night,  Aunt  Alice," 
;said  Budge. 

"  Dear  little  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  "go  on." 

"Dear  Lord,"  said  Budge,  "we  do  have  the  awfullest 
times  when  we  try  to  make  other  folks  happy.  Do,  please, 
Lord — please  teach  big  folks  how  hard  little  folks  have  to 
think  before  they  do  things  for  'em.  An'  make  'em  under- 
stand little  folks  every  way  better  than  they  do,  so  that  they 
don't  make  little  folks  unhappy  when  they  try  to  make  big 
folks  feel  jolly.  Make  big  folks  have  to  think  as  hard  as 
little  folks  do,  for  Christ's  sake — Amen!  Oh,  yes,  an'  bless 


BUDGE'S  PRAYER.  457 

dear  mamma  an'  the  sweet  little  sister  baby.     How's  that, 
Aunt  Alice  ?" 

Mrs.  Burton  did  not  reply,  and  Budge,  on  turning,  saw 
only  her  departing  figure,  while  Toddie  remarked  : 

"  Now,  it's  my  tyne  (turn.)  Dear  Lord,  when  I  getsh  to 
be  a  little  boy  anzel  up  in  hebben,  dt  n't  let  growed-up  anzels 
come  along  whenever  I'm  doin'  anyfing  nice  for  'em,  an'  say 
*dwttj  or  tumble  me  down  in  heaps  of  nashty  old  black 
coal.  There  !  Amen !" 

It  was  with  a  sneaking  sense  of  relief  that  Mrs.  Burton 
awoke  on  the  following  morning,  and  realized  that  the  day 
was  Sunday.  Even  schoolteachers  have  two  days  of  rest 
in  every  seven,  thought  Mrs.  Burton  to  herself,  and  no  one 
doubts  that  they  deserve  them.  How  much  more  deserving 
of  rest  and  relief,  then,  must  be  the  volunteer  teacher  who, 
not  for  a  few  hours  only,  but  from  dawn  to  twilight,  has 
charge  of  two  children  whose  capacity  for  both  learning  and 
mischief,  surely  equals  any  school-full  of  boys  ?  The  reali- 
zation that  she  was  attempting,  for  a  few  days  only,  that 
which  mothers  everywhere  were  doing  without  hope  of  rest 
excepting  in  heaven,  made  Mrs.  Burton  feel  more  humble 
and  worthless  than  she  had  ever  done  in  her  life  before,  but 
it  did  not  banish  her  wish  to  turn  the  children  over  to  the 
care  of  their  uncle  for  the  day.  If  Mrs.  Burton  had  been 
honest  with  herself  she  would  have  admitted  that  the  prin- 
cipal cause  of  her  anxiety  for  relief  was  her  unwillingness 
to  have  her  husband  witness  the  failures  which  she  had 
come  to  believe  were  to  be  her  daily  lot  while  trying  to 
train  her  nephews.  Thoughts  of  a  Sunday  excursion,  from 
participation  in  which  she  should  in  some  way  excuse  her- 
self; of  volunteering  to  relieve  her  sister-in-law's  nurse 
during  the  day,  and  thus  leaving  her  husband  in  charge  of 
the  house  and  the  children ;  of  making  that  visit  to  her 
mother  which  is  always  in  order  with  the  newly-made  wife 
— all  these,  and  other  devices  not  so  practicable,  came  be- 
fore Mrs.  Burton's  mind's  eye  for  comparison,  but  they  all 
and  together  took  sudden  wing  when  Mr.  Burton  awoke 


4.58  THB  WAY  PAPA  DOES. 

and  complained  of  a  raging  toothache.  Truly  pitiful  and 
sympathetic  as  Mrs.  Burton  was,  she  exhibited  remarkable 
resignation  in  the  face  of  the  thought  that  her  husband 
would  probably  need  to  remain  in  his  room  all  day,  and 
that  it  would  be  absolutely  necessary  to  keep  the  children 
out  of  his  sight  and  hearing.  Then  he  could  find  nothing 
to  criticise ;  she  might  fail  as  frequently  as  she  probably 
would,  but  he  would  know  only  of  her  successes. 

A  light  knock  was  heard  at  Mrs.  Burton's  door,  and  then, 
without  waiting  for  invitation,  there  came  in  two  fresh,  rosy 
faces,  two  heads  of  disarranged  hair,  and  two  long  white 
nightgowns,  and  the  occupant  of  the  longer  gown  exclaimed  : 

"Say,  Uncle  Harry,  do  you  know  it's  Sunday?  What  are 
you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  We  always  have  lots  done  for  us 
Sundays,  'cause  it's  the  only  day  papa's  home." 

"  Yes,  I — think  I've  heard — something  of  the  kind — be- 
fore," mumbled  Mr.  Burton,  with  difficulty,  between  the 
fingers  which  covered  his  aching  incisor. 

"Oh— h,"  exclaimed  Toddie,  "  I  b'lieve  he'  goin'  to  play 
bear  !  Come  on,  Budge,  we'sgot  to  be  dogs."  And  Toddie 
buried  his  face  in  the  bed-covering  and  succeeded  in  fasten- 
ing his  teeth  in  his  uncle's  calf.  A  howl  from  the  sufferer 
did  not  frighten  off  the  amateur  dog,  and  he  was  finally  dis- 
lodged only  by  being  clutched  by  the  throat  by  his  victim. 

"  That  izhn't  the  way  to  play  bear,"  complained  Toddie ; 
"  you  ought  to  keep  on  a-howlin'  an'  let  me  keep  on  a-bitin', 
an'  then  you  give  me  pennies  to  stop — that's  the  way  papa 
does." 

"  Can  you  see  how  Tom  Lawrence  can  be  so  idiotic?" 
asked  Mrs.  Burton. 

"I  suppose  I  could," replied  the  gentleman,  "if  I  hadn't 
such  a  toothache." 

"  You  poor  old  fellow !"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  tenderly. 
Then  she  turned  to  her  nephews,  and  exclaimed:  "Now, 
boys,  listen  to  me !  Uncle  Harry  is  very  sick  to-day — he 
has  a  dreadful  toothache,  and  every  particle  of  bother  and 
noise  will  make  it  worse.  You  must  both  keep  away  from 


HOW  NOT  TO  BE  HUNGRY  459 

his  room,  and  be  as  quiet  as  possible  wherever  you  may  be 
in  the  house.  Even  the  sound  of  people  talking  is  very 
annoying  to  a  person  with  the  toothache.'1 

"  Then  you's  a  baddy  woman  to  stay  in  here  an'  keep 
a-talkin'  all  the  whole  time,"  said  Toddie,  "when  it  makes 
poor  old  Uncle  Harry  supper  so.  G'way." 

Mrs.  Burton's  lord  and  master  was  not  in  too  much  pain 
to  shake  considerably  with  silent  laughter  over  this  unex- 
pected rebuke,  and  the  lady  herself  was  too  thoroughly 
startled  to  devise  an  appropriate  retort ;  so  the  boys  amused 
themselves  by  a  general  exploration  of  the  chamber,  not 
omitting  even  the  pockets  of  their  uncle's  clothing.  This 
work  completed,  to  the  full  extent  of  their  ability,  the  boys 
demanded  breakfast. 

"  Breakfast  won't  be  ready  until  eight  o'clock,"  said  Mrs. 
Burton,  "  and  it  is  now  only  six.  If  you  little  boys  don't 
want  to  feel  dreadfully  hungry,  you  had  better  go  back  to 
bed,  and  lie  as  quiet  as  possible." 

''  Is  that  the  way  not  to  be  hungry  ?"  asked  Toddie,  with 
wide-open  eyes,  which  always  accompany  the  receptive 
mind. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "  If  you  run  about,  you 
agitate  your  stomachs,  and  that  makes  them  restless,  and  so 
you  feel  hungry." 

"  Gwacious  !"  said  Toddie.  "What  lots  of  fings  little  boys 
has  got  to  lyne  (learn),  hazn't  they?  Come  on,  Budgie — 
let's  go  put  our  tummuks  to  bed,  an'  keep  'em  from  gettin' 
ajjerytated." 

"All  right,"  said  Budge.  "But  say,  Aunt  Alice,  don't  you 
s'pose  our  stomachs  would  be  sleepier  an'  not  so  restless  if 
there  was  some  crackers  or  bread  an'  butter  in  'em  ?" 

There's  no  one  down-stairs  to  get  you  any,"  said  Mrs. 
Burton. 

"  Oh,"  said  Budge,  "  we  can  find  them.  We  know  where 
everything  is  in  the  pantries  and  store-room." 

"  /wish  I  were  so  smart,"  sighed  Mrs  Burton.     "  Go 
— get  what  you  want — but  don't  come  back  to  this 


460  SAINTLY  WITH  SICK  PEOPLE. 

room  again.  And  don't  let  me  find  anything  in  disorder 
down-stairs,  or  I  shall  never  trust  you  in  my  kitchen 
again." 

Away  flew  the  children,  but  their  disappearance  only 
made  room  for  a  new  torment,  for  Mr.  Burton  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  the  operation  of  shaving  himself,  and  re- 
marked : 

"  I've  been  longing  for  Sunday  to  come,  for  your  sake, 
my  dear.  The  boys,  as  you  have  frequently  observed,  have 
very  strange  notions  about  holy  things ;  but  they  are  also,. 
by  nature,  quite  religious  and  spiritually  minded.  You  are 
not  only  this  latter,  but  you  are  free  from  strange  doctrines 
and  the  traditions  of  men.  The  mystical  influences  of  the 
day  will  make  themselves  felt  upon  those  innocent  little 
hearts,  and  you  will  have  the  opportunity  to  correct  wrong 
teachings  and  instil  new  sentiments  and  truths." 

Mr.  Burton's  voice  had  grown  a  little  shaky  as  he 
reached  the  close  of  this  neat  and  reverential  speech,  so 
that  his  wife  scrutinized  his  face  closely  to  see  if  there 
might  not  be  a  laugh  somewhere  about  it.  A  friendly  coat- 
ing of  lather  protected  one  cheek,  however,  and  the  trouble- 
some tooth  had  distorted  the  shape  of  the  other,  so  Mrs. 
Burton  was  compelled  to  accept  the  mingled  ascription 
of  praise  and  responsibility,  which  she  did  with  a  sinking 
heart. 

"I'll  take  care  of  them  while  you're  at  church,  my 
dear,"  said  Mr.  Burton ;  "  they're  always  saintly  with  sick 
people." 

Mrs.  Burton  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  determined 
that  she  would  extemporize  a  special  "  Children's  service  " 
immediately  after  breakfast,  and  impress  her  nephews  as* 
fully  as  possible  with  the  spirit  of  the  day ;  then  if  her  hus- 
band would  but  continue  the  good  work  thus  begun,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  the  boys  to  fall  from  grace  in  the 
few  hours  which  remained  between  dinner-time  and  dark- 
ness. Full  of  her  project,  and  forgetting  that  she  had  al- 
lowed her  chambermaid  to  go  to  early  Mass  and  promised 


AN  IMPROVISED  BREAKFAST.  461 

herself  to  see  that  the  children  were  dressed  for  breakfast, 
Mrs.  Burton,  at  the  breakfast-table,  noticed  that  her  ne- 
phews did  not  respond  with  their  usual  alacrity  to  the  call 
of  the  bell.  Recalling  her  forgotten  duty,  she  hurried  to 
the  boys'  chamber,  and  found  them  already  enjoying  a  re- 
past which  was  remarkable  at  least  for  variety.  On  a  small 
table,  drawn  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  was  a  pie,  a  bowl  of 
pickles,  a  dish  of  honey  in  the  comb,  and  a  small  paper 
package  of  cinnamon  bark,  and,  with  spoons,  knives  and 
forks  and  fingers,  the  boys  were  helping  themselves  alter- 
nately to  these  delicacies.  Seeing  his  aunt,  Toddie  looked 
rather  guilty,  but  Budge  displayed  the  smile  of  the  fully 
justified,  and  remarked : 

"  Now,  you  know  what  kind  of  meals  little  boys  like, 
Aunt  Alice.  I  hope  you  won't  forget  it  while  we're  here." 

"  What  do  you  mean !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Burton,  sternly, 
"  by  bringing  such  things  up-stairs  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  Budge,  "  you  told  us  to  get  what  we  want- 
ed, an'  we  supposed  you  told  the  troof." 

"  An'  I  ain't  azh  hungry  azh  I  wazh,"  remarked  Toddie, 
"  but  my  tummuk  feels  as  if  it  growed  big  and  got  little 
again,  every  minute  or  two,  an'  it  hurts.  I  wishes  we  could 
put  tummuks  away  when  we  get  done  usin'  'em,  like  we  do 
hats  an'  overshoes." 

To  sweep  the  remains  of  the  unique  morning  lunch  into 
a  heap  and  away  from  her  nephews,  was  a  work  which 
occupied  but  a  second  or  two  of  Mrs.  Burton's  time  ;  this 
done,  two  little  boys  found  themselves  robed  more  rapidly 
than  they  had  ever  before  been.  Arrived  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  they  eyed  with  withering  contempt  an  irreproachable 
cutlet,  some  crisp-brown  potatoes  of  wafer-like  thinness, 
and  a  heap  of  rolls  almost  as  light  as  snowflakes. 

"We  don't  want  done  of  this  kind  of  breakfast,"  said 
Budge. 

"  Of  course  we  don't,"  said  Toddie,  "when  we's  so  awful 
full  of  uvver  fings.  I  don't  know  where  I'zhe  goin'  to  put 
my  dinner  when  it  comes  time  to  eat  it." 


NEEDING  TO  BE  COMFORTED. 

"Don't  fret  about  that,  Tod,"  said  Budge.  "Don't  yon 
know  papa  says  that  the  Bible  says  something  that  means 
'  don't  worry  till  you  have  to.' " 

Mrs.  Burton  raised  her  eyebrows  with  horror  not  un- 
mixed with  inquiry,  and  her  husband  hastened  to  give 
Budge's  sentiment  its  proper  Biblical  wording.  "  Sufficient 
unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof."  Mrs.  Burton's  wonder 
was  allayed  by  the  explanation,  although  her  horror  was 
not,  and  she  made  haste  to  say  : 

"  Boys,  we  will  have  a  little  Sunday-school,  all  by  our- 
selves, in  the  parlor,  immediately  after  breakfast." 

"Hooray!"  shouted  Budge.  "An1  will  you  give  us  a 
ticket  an'  pass  around  a  box  for  pennies,  just  like  they  do 
in  big  Sunday-schools  ?" 

"  I — suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  who  had  not  pre- 
viously thought  of  these  special  attractions  of  the  success- 
ful Sunday-school. 

"  Let's  go  right  in,  Tod,"  said  Budge,  "  'cause  the  dog's 
in  there.  I  saw  him  as  I  came  down,  and  I  shut  all  the 
doors,  so  he  couldn't  get  out.  We  can  have  some  fun  with 
him  'fore  Sunday-school  begins." 

Both  boys  started  for  the  parlor-door,  and,  guided  by 
that  marvelous  instinct  with  which  Providence  arms  the 
few  against  the  many,  and  the  weak  against  the  strong,  the 
clog  Jerry  also  approached  the  door  from  the  inside.  As 
the  door  opened,  there  was  heard  a  convulsive  howl,  and  a 
general  tumbling  of  small  boys,  while  at  almost  the  same 
instant  the  dog  Jerry  flew  into  the  dining-room  and  hid  him- 
self in  the  folds  of  his  mistress's  morning-robe.  Two  or 
three  minutes  later  Budge  entered  the  dining-room  with  a 
very  rueful  countenance,  and  remarked  : 

"  I  guess  we  need  that  Sunday-school  pretty  quick,  Aunt 
Alice.  The  dog  don't  want  to  play  with  us,  and  we  ought 
to  be  comforted  some  way." 

"  They're  grown  people,  all  over  again,"  remarked  Mr. 
Burton,  with  a  laugh. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Burton. 


b 

>  o 


Ss 


"J  H 

ig 

K     «T| 

~  a 
>•  r 
c  r1 


463 


SUNDAY  SONGS.  465 

"  Only  this — that  when  their  own  devices  fail,  they're  in 
a  hurry  for  the  consolations  of  religion,"  said  Mr.  Burton. 
"  May  I  visit  the  Sunday-school  ?" 

"  I  suppose  I  can't  keep  you  away,"  sighed  Mrs.  Burton, 
leading  the  way  to  the  parlor.  "  Boys,"  said  she,  greeting 
her  nephews,  "  first,  we'll  sing  a  little  hymn ;  what  shall  it 
be?" 

"  Ole  Uncle  Ned,"  said  Toddie,  promptly. 

"  Oh,  that's  not  a  Sunday  song,"  said  Mrs.  Burton. 

"  Jfink  tizh,"  said  Toddie,  "'cause  it  sayzh,  free  or  four 
timezh,  '  He's  gone  where  de  good  niggers  go,'  an'  that's 
hebben,  you  know  ;  so  it's  a  Sunday  song." 

"  I  think '  Glory,  glory,  hallelujah  !'  is  nicer,"  said  Budge, 
"an'  I  know  that's  a  Sunday  song,  'cause  I've  heard  it 
in  church." 

"  Aw  wight,"  said  Toddie  ;  and  he  immediately  started 
the  old  air  himself,  with  the  words,  "There  liezh  the 
whisky-bottle,  empty  on  the  sheff,"  but  was  suddenly 
brought  to  order  by  a  shake  from  his  aunt,  while  his  uncle 
danced  about  the  front  parlor  in  an  ecstasy  not  directly 
traceable  to  toothache. 

"  That's  not  a  Sunday  song  either,  Toddie,"  said  Mrs. 
Burton.  "  The  words  are  real  rowdyish.  Where  did  you 
learn  them  ?" 

"Bound  the  corner  from  our  housh,"  said  Toddie, 
"  an'  you  can  shing  your  ole  shongs  yourseff,  if  you  don't 
like  mine." 

Mrs.  Burton  went  to  the  piano,  rambled  among  chords 
for  a  few  seconds,  and  finally  recalled  a  Sunday-school  air 
in  which  Toddie  joined  as  angelically  as  if  his  own 
musical  taste  had  never  been  impugned. 

"  Now  I  guess  we'd  better  take  up  the  collection  before 
any  little  boys  lose  their  pennies,"  said  Budge,  hurrying  to 
the  dining-room,  and  returning  with  a  strawberry  -  box 
which  seemed  to  have  been  specially  provided  for  the  occa- 
sion ;  this  he  passed  gravely  before  Toddie,  and  Toddie 
held  his  hand  over  it  as  carefully  as  if  he  were  depositing 


466  KNOWING  A  LITTLE  BOY. 

hundreds,  and  then  Toddie  took  the  box  and  passed  it 
before  Budge,  who  made  the  same  dumb  show,  after  which 
Budge  retook  the  box,  shook  it,  listened,  and  remarked,  "  It 
don't  rattle — I  guess  it's  all  paper-money,  to-day,"  placed 
it  upon  the  mantel,  reseated  himself,  and  remarked : 
"Now  bring  on  your  lesson." 

Mrs.  Burton  opened  her  Bible  with  a  sense  of  utter 
helplessness.  With  the  natural  instinct  of  a  person  given 
to  thoroughness,  she  opened  at  the  beginning  of  the  book, 
but  she  speedily  closed  it  again — the  first  chapter  of  Gen- 
esis had  suggested  many  a  puzzling  question  even  to  her 
orthodox  mind.  Turning  the  leaves  rapidly,  passing,  for 
conscience  sake,  the  record  of  many  a  battle,  the  details  of 
which  would  have  delighted  the  boys,  and  hurrying  by  the 
prophecies  as  records  not  for  the  minds  of  children,  she  at 
last  reached  the  New  Testament,  and  the  ever-new  story 
of  the  only  boy  who  ever  was  all  that  his  parents  and 
relatives  could  wish  him  to  be. 

"  The  lesson  will  be  about  Jesus,"  said  Mrs.  Burton. 
"  Little-boy  Jesus  or  big-man  Jesus  ?"  asked  Toddie. 
"  A — a — both,"  replied  the  teacher,  in  some  confusion. 
Aw  wight,"  said  Toddie.     "  G'won." 
There   was  once  a  time  when   all  the   world  was  in 
trouble,  without  knowing  exactly  why,"  said  Mrs.  Burton ; 
"but  the  Lorrl  understood  it,  for  He  understands  every- 
thing." 

"  Does  He  knows  how  it  feels  to  be  a  little  boy  ?"  asked 
Toddie,  "  an'  be  sent  to  bed  when  He  don't  want  to  go  ?" 

"  And  He  determined  to  comfort  the  world,  as  He  always- 
does  when  the  world  finds  out  it  can't  comfort  itself,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Burton,  entirely  ignoring  her  nephew's  ques- 
tions. 

"But  wasn't  there  lotzh  of  little  boyzh  then?"  asked 
Toddie,  "  an'  didn't  they  used  to  be  comforted  as  well  as- 
big  folks?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "  But  He  knew  if  He 
comforted  grown  people,  they  would  make  the  children 
happy.'* 


467 

"  I  wiss  He'd  comfort  you  an'  Uncle  Harry  every  morn- 
in',  then,"  said  Toddie.     "G'won." 

"  So  He  sent  His  own  Son — his  only  Son — down  to  the 
world  to  be  a  dear  little  baby." 

"/  should  think  He'd  have  made  Him  a  sister  baby," 
said  Budge,  "  if  He'd  wanted  to  make  everybody  happy." 

"  He  knew  best,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.     "And  while  smart, 
people  everywhere  were  wondering  what  would  or   could 

happen  to  quiet  the  restless  heart  of  people " 

"Izh  restless  hearts  like  restless  tummuks?"  interrupted 
Toddie.     "  Kind  o'  limpy  an'  wabbley  ?" 
"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Burton. 

"Poor  folks,"  said  Toddie  clasping,  his  hands  over  his 
waistband  :  "Izhe  sorry  for  'em." 

"  While  smart  folks  were  trying  to  think  out  what 
should  be  done,"  continued  Mrs.  Burton,  "some  simple 
shepherds,  who  used  to  sit  around  at  night  under  the  moon 
and  star.s,  and  wonder  about  things  which  they  could  not 
understand,  saw  a  wonderfully  bright  star  up  in  the  sky." 

"  Was  it  one  of  the  twinkle-twinkle  kind,  or  one  of  the 
stand-still  kind  ?"  asked  Toddie. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  after  a  moment's  re-  . 
flection.     "  Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"'Cauzh,"  said  Toddie,  "I  know  what  'twazh  there  for, 
an'  it  ought  to  have  twinkled,  'cauzh  twinkley  star  bobs 
open  and  shut  that  way  'cauzh  they're  laughin'  and  can't 
keep  still,  an'  I  know  I'd  have  laughed  if  I'd  been  a  star 
an'  was  goin'  to  make  a  lot  of  folks  so  awful  happy.  G'won." 
"  Then,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  looking  alternately  and  fre- 
quently at  the  two  accounts  of  the  Advent,  "  they  suddenly 
saw  an  angel,  and  tne  shepherds  were  afraid." 

"Should  fink  they  would  be,"  said  Toddie.  "Every- 
body gets  afraid  when  they  see  good  people  around.  I 
'spec'  they  thought  the  angel  would -say  *  don't!'  in  about  a 
minute." 

"But  the  angel  told  them  not  to  be  afraid,"  said  Mrs. 
Burton,  "  for  he  had  come  to  bring  good  news.  There  was 


468  "LITTLE  BOYS  ALWAYS  LIKE  STABLES." 

to  be  a  dear  little  baby  born  at  Bethlehem,  and  He  would 
make  everybody  happy." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  that  angel  would  come  an'  do  it 
all  over  again  ?"  said  Budge.  "  Only  he  ought  to  pick  out 
little  boys  instead  of  sheep  fellows,  /wouldn't  be  afraid  of 
an  angel." 

"Neiver  would  I,"  said  Toddie,  "but  I  dzust  go  round 
behind  him  an'  see  how  his  wings  was  fastened  on." 

"  Then  a  great  many  other  angels  came,"  said  Mrs.  Bur- 
ton, "  and  they  all  sang  and  sang  together.  The  poor  shep- 
herds didn't  know  what  to  make  of  it,  but  after  the  singing 
was  over,  they  all  started  for  Bethlehem,  to  see  that  won- 
derful baby." 

"  Just  like  the  other  _day  we  went  to  see  the  sister- 
baby." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Burton ;  but  instead  of  finding  Him  in 
-a  pleasant  home  and  a  nice  room,  with  careful  friends  and 
nurses  around  Him,  He  was  in  a  manger  out  in  a  stable." 

"That  was  'cause  he  was  so  smart  that  He  could  do  just 
what  He  wanted  to,  an'  be  just  where  he  liked,"  said  Budge, 
'"  an'  He  was  a  little  boy,  an'  little  boys  always  like  stables 
better  than  houses — I  wish  /  could  live  in  a  stable  always 
an'  for  ever." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Toddie,  "an'  sleep  in  mangers,  'cauzh 
then  the  horses  would  kick  anybody  that  made  me  put  on 
clean  clothezh  when  I  didn't  want  to.  They  gaveded  him 
presentsh,  didn't  they  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Burton;  "gold,  frankincense,  and 
myrrh." 

"  Why  didn't  they  give  him  rattles  and  squealey-balls, 
like  folks  did  budder  Phillie  when  he  wras  a  baby,"  asked 
Toddie. 

"  Because,  Toddie,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  glad  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  get  the  sentiment  of  the  story  into  her  own  hands, 
from  which  it  had  departed  very  early  in  the  course  of  the 
lesson — "  because  He  was  no  common  baby,  like  other  chil- 
dren. He  was  the  Lord." 


EGYPT  AS  BAD  AS  EUROPE.  4691 

"  "What !  The  Lord  once  a  dear  little  baby  ?"  exclaimed 
Toddie. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Burton,  shuddering  to  realize  that 
Toddie  had  not  before  been  taught  of  the  nature  of  the  Holy 
Trinity. 

"An*  played  around  like  uvver  little  boysh  ?"  continued 
Toddie. 

"I — I — suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  fearing  lest  in 
trying  to  instill  reverence  into  her  nephews,  she  herself 
might  prove  irreverent. 

"  Did  somebody  say  '  Don't '  at  Him  every  time  he  did 
anyfing  ?"  continued  Toddie. 

"N — n — n — o!  I  imagine  not,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,. 
"  because  he  was  always  good." 

"  That  don't  make  any  diffwelence,"  said  Toddie.  "  The- 
better  a  little  boy  triesh  to  be,  the  more  folks  say  '  Don't  * 
to  him.  So  I  guesh  nobody  had  any  time  to  say  anyfing 
elsh  at  all  to  Jesus." 

"  What  did  He  do  next  ?"  asked  Budge,  as  deeply  inter- 
ested as  if  he  had  not  heard  the  same  story  many  times 
before. 

"  He  grew  strong  in  body  and  spirit,"  said  Mrs.  Burton, 
"  and  everybody  loved  Him  ;  but  before  He  had  time  to  da 
all  that,  an  angel  came  and  frightened  His  papa  in  a  dream, 
and  told  him  that  the  king  of  that  country  would  kill  little 
Jesus  if  he  could  find  Him.  So  Joseph,  the  papa  of  Jesus,, 
and  Mary,  His  mamma,  got  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
and  started  off  to  Egypt." 

"  Seems  to  me  that  Egypt  was  'bout  as  bad  in  those  days 
as  Europe  is  now,"  remarked  Budge.  "Whenever  papa 
tells  about  anybody  that  nobody  can  find,  he  says,  '  Gone- 
to  Europe,  I  s'pose.'  What  did  they  find  when  they  got 
there?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  musing.  "  I  suppose- 
the  papa  worked  hard  for  money  to  buy  good  food  and  com- 
fortable resting-places  for  life  wife  and  baby  ;  and  I  suppose- 
the  mamma  walked  about  the  fields,  and  picked  pretty 


470  STATE  OP  BUDGE'S  "TUMMUK." 

flowers  for  her  baby  to  play  with ;  and  I  suppose  the  baby 
•cooed  when  His  mamma  gave  them  to  Him,  and  laughed 
and  danced  and  played,  and  then  got  tired,  and  came  and 
hid  His  little  face  in  His  mamma's  lap,  and  was  taken  into 
her  arms  and  held  ever  so  tight,  and  fell  asleep,  and  that 
His  mother  looked  into  His  face  as  if  she  would  look 
through  it,  while  she  tried  to  find  out  what  her  baby  would 
be  and  do  when  He  grew  up,  and  whether  He  would  be 
taken  away  from  her,  while  it  seemed  as  if  she  couldn't  live 
at  all  without  having  Him  very  closely  pressed  to  her  breast 
and " 

Mrs.  Burton's  voice  grew  a  little  shaky,  and,  finally, 
failed  her  entirely.  Budge  came  in  front  of  her,  scrutinized 
her  intently,  but  with  great  sympathy,  also,  and,  finally, 
leaned  his  elbows  on  her  knees,  dropped  his  face  into  his 
own  hands,  looked  up  into  her  face,  and  remarked  : 

"Why,  Aunt  Alice,  she  was  just  like  my  mamma,  wasn't 
she  ?  An'  I  think  you  are  just  like  both  of  'em  !" 

Mrs.  Burton  took  Budge  hastily  into  her  arms,  covered 
his  face  with  kisses,  and  totally  destroyed  another  chance 
of  explaining  the  difference  between  the  earthly  and  the 
heavenly  to  her  pupils,  while  Toddie  eyed  the  couple  with 
evident  disfavor,  and  remarked  : 

"  Jfink  'twould  be  nicer  if  you'd  see  if  dinner  was  bein' 
got  ready,  instead  of  stoppin'  tellin'  stories  an'  huggin' 
Budge.  My  tummuk's  all  gotted  little  again." 

Mrs.  Burton  came  back  to  the  world  of  to-day  from  that 
of  history,  though  not  without  a  sigh,  while  the  dog  Jerry, 
who  had  divined  the  peaceful  nature  of  the  occasion  so  far 
as  to  feel  justified  in  reclining  beneath  his  mistress's  chair, 
now  contracted  himself  into  the  smallest  possible  space, 
slunk  out  of  the  doorway,  and  took  a  lively  quickstep  in  the 
direction  of  the  shrubbery.  Toddie  had  seen  him,  however, 
and  told  the  news  to  Budge,  and  both  boys  were  soon  in 
pursuit ;  noticing  which  the  dog  Jerry  speedily  betook  him- 
self to  that  distant  retirement  which  the  dog  who  has 
experience  in  small  boys  knows  so  well  how  to  discover  and 
maintain. 


A  GOOD   OLD-FASHIONED  TIME.  471 

As  the  morning  wore  on,  the  boys  grew  restless,  fought, 
drummed  on  the  piano,  snarled  when  that  instrument  was 
closed,  meddled  with  everything  that  was  within  reach,  and 
finally  grew  so  troublesome  that  their  aunt  soon  felt  that  to 
lose  was  cheaper  than  to  save,  so  she  left  the  house  to  the 
children,  and  sought  the  side  of  the  lounge  upon  which  her 
afflicted  husband  reclined.  The  divining  sense  of  childhood 
soon  found  her  out,  however,  and  Budge  remarked  : 

"  Aunt  Alice,  if  you're  going  to  church,  seems  to  me  it's 
time  you  was  getting  ready." 

"I  can't  go  to  church,  Budge,"  sighed  Mrs.  Burton.  "If 
I  do,  you  boys  will  only  turn  the  whole  house  upside  down, 
and  drive  your  poor  uncle  nearly  crazv." 

"No,  we  won't,"  said  Budge.  "You  don't  know  what 
nice  nurses  we  can  be  to  sick  people.  Papa  says  nobody 
can  even  imagine  how  well  we  can  take  care  of  anybody 
until  they  see  us  do  it.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  just  leave 
us  with  Uncle  Harry,  an'  stay  home  from  church  an'  peek 
through  the  key-hole." 

"  Go  on,  Allie,"  said  Mr.  Burton.  "  If  you  want  to  go  to 
church,  don't  be  afraid  to  leave  me.  I  think  you  should  go 
— after  your  experience  of  this  morning.  I  shouldn't  think 
your  mind  could  be  at  peace  until  you  had  joined  your  voice 
with  that  of  the  great  congregation,  and  acknowledged  your- 
self to  be  a  miserable  sinner." 

Mrs.  Burton  winced,  but  nevertheless  retired,  and  soon 
appeared  dressed  for  church,  kissed  her  husband  and  her 
nephews,  gave  many  last  instructions,  and  departed.  Budge 
followed  her  with  his  eye  until  she  had  stepped  from  the 
piazza,  and  then  remarked,  with  a  sigh  of  relief : 

"  Now  I  guess  we'll  have  what  papa  calls  a  good,  old- 
fashioned  time — we've  got  rid  of  her." 

"Budge  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Burton,  sternly,  and  springing 
to  his  feet,  "  do  you  know  who  you  are  talking  about? 
Don't  you  know  that  your  Aunt  Alice  is  my  wife,  and  that 
she  has  saved  you  from  many  a  scolding,  done  you  many  a 
favor,  and  been  your  best  friend  ?" 


472  NICEST   PLACES  FOB  A   SICK  MAN. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Budge,  with  at  least  a  dozen  inflections 
on  each  word,  "  but  ev'ry  day  friends  an'  Sunday  friends 
are  kind  o'  different ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  She  can't  make 
whistles,  or  catch  bull-frogs,  or  carry  both  of  us  up  the 
mountain  on  her  shoulders,  or  sing  'Roll,  Jordan.' " 

"And  do  you  expect  me  to  do  all  these  things  to-day?" 
asked  Mr.  Burton. 

«  N — n — no,"  said  Budge,  "  unless  you  should  get  well, 
an'  feel  just  like  it ;  but  we'd  like  to  be  with  somebody  who 
could  do  'em  if  he  wanted  to.  We  like  ladies  that's  all  ladies, 
but  then  we  like  men  that's  all  men,  too.  Aunt  Alice  is  a 
good  deal  like  an  angel,  I  think,  and  you — you  ain't.  An'  we 
don't  want  to  be  with  angels  all  the  time  until  we're  angels 
ourselves." 

Mr.  Burton  turned  over  suddenly  and  contemplated  the 
back  of  the  lounge  at  this  honest  avowal  of  one  of  human- 
ity's prominent  weaknesses,  while  Budge  continued : 

"  We  don't  want  you  to  get  to  be  an  angel,  so  what  I 
want  to  know  is,  how  to  make  you  well.  Don't  you  think  if 
I  borrowed  papa's  horse  and  carriage  an'  took  you  ridin' 
you'd  feel  better  ?  I  know  he'd  lend  'em  to  me  if  I  told 
him  you  were  goin'  to  drive." 

"  And  if  you  said  you  were  going  with  me  to  take  care  oi 
me  ?"  suggested  Mr.  Burton. 

"  Y — e — es,"  said  Budge,  as  hesitatingly  as  if  such  an 
idea  had  never  occurred  to  him.  "  An'  don't  you  think  that 
up  to  the  top  of  the  Hawksnest  Bock  an'  out  to  Passaic 
Falls  would  be  the  nicest  places  for  a  sick  man  to  go  ? 
When  you  got  tired  of  ridin'  you  could  stop  the  carriage 
an'  cut  us  a  cane,  or  make  us  whistles,  or  find  us  pfmgster 
apples  (the  seed-balls  of  the  wild  azalea),  or  even  send  us 
in  swimming  in  a  brook  somewhere  if  you  got  tired  of  us." 

"  H'm  !"  grunted  Mr.  Burton. 

*  An'  you  might  take  fings  to  eat  wif  you,"  suggested 
Toddie,  "  an'  when  you  got  real  tired  and  felt  bad,  you 
might  stop  and  have  a  little  picnic.  I  fink  that  would  be 
dzust  the  fing  for  a  man  wif  the  toothache.  And  we  could 
help  you  lotsh." 


STORIES  FOR  THE  SICK.  473 

"I'll  see  how  I  feel  after  dinner,"  said  Mr.  Burton. 
"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  for  me  between  now  and 
then,  to  make  me  feel  better?" 

"  We  tell  you  storiezh,"  said  Toddie.  "  Them's  what  sick 
folks  alwayzh  likesh." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Burton.     "  Begin  right  away." 

"  Aw  wight,"  said  Toddie.  "  Do  you  want  a  sad  story  or 
a  d'zolly  one?" 

"Anything,"  said  Mr.  Burton.  "  Men  with  the  toothache 
can  stand  nearly  anything.  Don't  draw  on  your  imagination 
too  hard." 

"Don't  never  draw  on  madzinasuns,"  said  Toddie;  "I 
only  draws  on  slatesh." 

"Never  mind;  give  us  the  story." 

"Well,"  said  Toddie,  seating  himself  in  a  rocking-chair, 
and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  ceiling,  "  guesh  I'll  tell  about 
Abrahammynlsaac.  Onesh  the  Lord  told  a  man  named 
Abraham  to  go  up  the  mountain  an'  chop  his  little  boy's 
froat  open  an'  burn  him  up  on  a  naltar.  So  Abraham 
started  to  go  to  do  it.  An'  he  made  his  little  boy  Isaac,  that 
he  was  going  to  chop  and  burn  up  carry  the  kindlin'  wood 
he  was  goin'  to  set  him  a-fire  wiz.  An'  I  want  to  know  if 
you  fink  that  wazh  very  nysh  of  him  ?" 

«  Well,— no,"  said  Mr.  Burton. 

"  Tell  you  what,"  said  Budge,  "  you  don't  ever  catch  me 
carryin'  sticks  up  the  mountain,  even  if  my  papa  wants  me 
to." 

"When  they  got  up  there,"  said  Toddie,  "Abraham 
made  a  naltar  an'  put  little  Ikey  on  it,  an'  took  a  knife  an' 
was  goin'  to  chop  his  froat  open,  when  a  andzel  came  out  of 
hebben  an'  said  :  '  Stop  a-doin'  that.'  So  Abraham  stopped, 
an'  Ikey  skooted ;  an'  Abraham  saw  a  sheep  caught  in  the 
bushes,  an'  he  caught  him  an'  killed  him.  He  wasn't  goin' 
to  climb  way  up  a  mountain  to  kill  somebody  an'  not  have 
his  knife  bluggy  a  bit.  An'  he  burned  the  sheep  up.  An' 
then  he  went  home  again." 

"I'll  bet  you  Isaac's  mamma  never  knew  what  his  papa 


474  "  WE  HAVE  NO  CHILDREN. 

wanted  to  do  with  him,"  said  Budge,  "or  she'd  never  let 
her  little  boy  go  away  in  the  mornin'.  Do  you  want  to 
bet?" 

"N — no,  not  on  Sunday,  I  guess,"  said  Mr.  Burton. 
"  Now,  suppose  you  little  boys  go  out  of  doors  and  play  for 
a  while,  while  uncle  tries  to  get  a  nap." 

The  boys  accepted  the  suggestion  and  disappeared. 
Half  an  hour  later,  as  Mrs.  Burton  was  walking  home  from 
church  under  escort  of  old  General  Porcupine,  and  endur- 
ing with  saintly  fortitude  the  general's  compliments  upon 
hef  management  of  the  children,  there  came  screams  of 
fear  and  anguish  from  the  general's  own  grounds,  which  the 
couple  were  passing. 

"Who  can  that  be?"  exclaimed  the  general,  his  short 
hairs  bristling  like  the  quills  of  his  titular  godfather.  "  We 
have  no  children." 

"I — think  I  know  the  voices,"  gasped  Mrs.  Burton,  turn- 
ing pale. 

"Bless  my  soul !"  exclaimed  the  general,  with  an  accent 
which  showed  that  he  was  wishing  the  reverse  of  bless- 
ings upon  souls  less  needy  than  his  own.  "You  don't 
mean " 

"Oh,  I  do!"  said  Mrs.  Burton,  wringing  her  hands. 
"  Do  hurry  !" 

The  general  puffed  and  snorted  up  his  gravel  walk  and 
toward  the  shrubbery,  behind  which  was  a  fish-pond,  from 
which  direction  the  sound  came.  Mrs.  Burton  followed,  in 
time  to  see  her  nephew  Budge  help  his  brother  out  of  the 
pond,  while  the  general  tugged  at  a  large  crawfish  which 
had  fastened  its  claw  upon  Toddie's  finger.  The  fish  was 
game,  but,  with  a  mighty  pull  from  the  general,  and  a 
superhuman  shriek  from  Toddie,  the  fish's  claw  and  body 
parted  company,  and  the  general,  still  holding  the  latter 
tightly,  staggered  backward,  and  himself  fell  into  the  pond. 

"  Ow — ow — ow  !"  howled  Toddie,  clasping  the  skirt  of 
his  aunt's  mauve  silk  in  a  ruinous  embrace,  while  the  gen- 
eral floundered  and  snorted  like  a  whale  in  dying  agonies, 


THE  LITTLE  BABY  LOBSTEB.  475 

and  Budge  laughed  as  merrily  as  if  the  whole  scene  had 
been  provided  especially  for  his  entertainment.  Mrs.  Bur- 
ion  hurried  her  nephews  away,  forgetting,  in  her  mortifica- 
tion, to  thank  the  general  for  his  service,  and  placing  a 
liand  over  Toddie's  mouth. 

"It  hurts,"  mumbled  Toddie. 

"  What  did  you  touch  the  fish  at  all  for  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
^Burton. 

"  It  was  a  little  baby-lobster,"  sobbed  Toddie ;  "  an'  I 
loves  little  babies — all  kinds  of  'em — an'  I  wanted  to  pet 
Tiim.  An'  then  I  wanted  to  grop  him." 

"  Why  didn't  you  do  it,  then  ?"  demanded  the  lady. 

"  'Gauze  he  wouldn't  grop,"  said  Toddie ;  "  he  isn't  all 
gropped  yet." 

True  enough,  the  claw  of  the  fish  still  hung  at  Toddie's 
finger,  and  Mrs.  Burton  spoiled  a  pair  of  four-button  kids 
in  detaching  it,  while  Budge  continued  to  laugh.  At  length, 
however,  mirth  gave  place  to  brotherly  love,  and  Budge 
tenderly  remarked : 

"  Toddie,  dear,  don't  you  love  Brother  Budge?" 

"Yesh,"  sobbed  Toddie. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  happy,"  said  Budge,  "for  you've 
made  him  awful  happy.  If  the  fish  hadn't  caught  you,  the 
general  couldn't  have  pulled  him  off,  an'  then  he  wouldn't 
have  tumbled  into  the  pond,  an'  oh,  my ! — didn't  he  splash 
bully  !" 

"  Then  you's  got  to  be  bited  with  a  fiss,"  said  Toddie, 
•"  an'  make  him  tumble  in  again,  for  me  to  laugh  'bout" 

"  You're  two  naughty  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Burton.  "  Is  this 
the  way  you  take  care  of  your  sick  uncle  ?" 

"  Did  take  care  of  him,"  exclaimed  Toddie  ;  "  told  him 
a  lovely  Bible  story,  an'  you  didn't,  an'  he  wouldn't  have 
had  no  Sunday  at  all  if  I  hadn't  done  it.  An'  we's  goin'  to 
take  him  widin'  this  afternoon." 

Mrs.  Burton  hurried  home,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
had  never  met  so  many  inquiring  acquaintances  during  so 
short  a  walk.  Arrived  at  last,  she  ordered  her  nephews  to 


476  TENDER  CONFIDENCES. 

their  room,  and  flung  herself  in  tears  beside  her  husbandr 
murmuring : 

"Henry!" 

And  Mr.  Burton,  having  viewed  the  ruined  dress  with 
the  eye  of  experience,  uttered  the  single  word  : 

"Boys!" 

"What  am  I  to  do  with  them?"  asked  the  unhappy 
woman. 

Mr.  Burton  was  an  affectionate  husband.  He  adored 
womankind,  and  sincerely  bemoaned  its  special  grievances ; 
but  he  did  not  resist  the  temptation  to  recall  his  wife's- 
announcement  of  five  days  before,  so  he  whispered : 

"  Train  them." 

ft  T " 

Mrs.  Burton's  humiliation  by  her  own  lips  was  post- 
poned by  a  heavy  footfall,  which,  by  turning  her  face,  she 
discovered  was  that  of  her  brother-in-law,  Tom  Lawrence, 
who  remarked : 

"  Tender  confidences,  eh  ?  Well,  I'm  sorry  I  intruded. 
There's  nothing  like  them  if  you  want  to  be  happy.  But 
Helen's  pretty  well  to-day,  and  dying  to  have  her  boys  with 
her,  and  I'm  even  worse  with  a  similar  longing.  You  can't 
spare  them,  I  suppose  ?" 

The  peculiar  way  in  which  Tom  Lawrence's  eyes  danced 
as  he  awaited  a  reply  would,  at  any  other  time,  have  roused 
all  the  defiance  in  Alice  Burton's  nature  ;  but  now,  looking 
at  the  front  of  her  beautiful  dress,  she  only  said  : 

"Why — I  suppose — we  might  spare  them  for  an  hour 
or  two !" 

"  You  poor,  dear  Spartan,"  said  Tom,  with  genuine  sym- 
pathy, "  you  shall  be  at  peace  until  their  bedtime  anyhow." 

And  Mrs.  Burton  found  occasion  to  rearrange  the  band- 
age on  her  husband's  face  so  as  to  whisper  in  his  ear  : 

"Thank  Heaven!" 


SAILING    UP    STEEAM. 


t  The  following  is  quoted,  by  permission,  from  Mr.  Habberton's  popular  &oofe,'  " 
BARTON  EXPERIMENT,"  published  by  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  Jerk.] 


superintendency  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  Woolen 
_  Mills  was  a  position  which  exactly  suited  Fred  Mao 
donald,  and  it  gave  him  occasion  for  the  expenditure  of 
whatever  superfluous  energy  he  found  himself  possessed  of, 
yet  it  did  not  engross  his  entire  attention.  The  faculty  which 
the  busiest  of  young  men  have  for  finding  time  in  which  to 
present  themselves,  well  clothed  and  unbusiness-like,  to  at 
least  one  young  woman,  is  as  remarkable  and  admirable  as 
it  is  inexplicable.  The  evenings  which  did  not  find  Fred  in 
Parson  Wedgewell's  parlor  were  few  indeed,  and  if,  when 
he  was  with  Esther,  he  did  not  talk  quite  as  sentimentally 
as  he  had  done  in  the  earlier  days  of  his  engagement,  and 
if  he  talked  business  very  frequently,  the  change  did  not 
.seem  distasteful  to  the  lady  herself.  For  the  business  of 
which  he  talked  was,  in  the  main,  a  sort  which  loving  women 
have  for  ages  recognized  as  the  inevitable,  and  to  which 
they  have  subjected  themselves  with  a  unanimity  which 
deserves  the  gratitude  of  all  humanity.  Fred  talked  of  a 
cottage  which  he  might  enter  without  first  knocking  at  the 
door,  and  of  a  partnership  which  should  be  unlimited  ;  if  he 
learned,  in  the  course  of  successive  conversations,  that  even 
in  partnerships  of  the  most  extreme  order  many  com- 
promises are  absolutely  necessary,  the  lesson  was  one  which 
improved  his  character  in  the  ratio  in  which  it  abased  his 
pride.  The  cottage  grew  as  rapidly  as  the  mill,  and  on  his 
returns  from  various  trips  for  machinery  there  came  with 
Fred's  freight  certain  packages  which  prevented  their 

477 


478  A  PARTNERSHIP  FORMED. 

owner  from  appearing  so  completely  the  absorbed  business 
man  which  he  flattered  himself  that  he  seemed.  Then  the 
partnership  was  formed  one  evening  in  Parson  Wedgeweli's- 
own  church,  in  the  presence  of  a  host  of  witnesses,  Fred 
appearing  as  self-satisfied  and  radiant  as  the  gainer  in  such, 
transactions  always  does,  while  Esther's  noble  face  and 
drooping  eyes  showed  beyond  doubt  who  it  was  that  was 
the  giver. 

As  the  weeks  succeeded  each  other  after  the  wedding, 
however,  no  acquaintance  of  the  couple  could  wonder 
whether  the  gainer  or  the  giver  was  the  happier.  Fred 
improved  rapidly,  as  the  schoolboy  improves ;  but  Esther's 
graces  were  already  of  mature  growth,  and  rejoiced  in  their 
opportunity  for  development.  Though  she  could  not  have 
explained  how  it  happened,  she  could  not  but  notice  that 
maidens  regarded  her  wonderingly,  wives  contemplated  her 
wistfully,  frowns  departed  and  smiles  appeared  when  she 
approached  people  who  were  usually  considered  prosaic. 
Yet  shadows  sometimes  stole  over  her  face,  when  she  looked 
at  certain  of  her  old  acquaintances,  and  the  cause  thereof 
soon  took  a  development  which  was  anything  but  pleasing 
to  her  husband. 

"  Fred,"  said  Esther  one  evening,  "  it  makes  me  real 
unhappy  sometimes  to  think  of  the  good  wives  there  are 
who  are  not  as  happy  as  I  am.  I  think  of  Mrs.  Moshier 
and  Mrs.  Crayme,  and  the  only  reason  that  I  can  see  is,  their 
husbands  drink." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,  Ettie,"  said  Fred.  "  They  didn't, 
begin  their  domestic  tyranny  in  advance,  as  you  did — bless 
you  for  it." 

"  But  why  don't  their  husbands  stop  ?"  asked  Esther,  too* 
deeply  interested  in  her. subject  to  notice  her  husband's 
compliment.  "  They  must  see  what  they're  doing,  and  how 
cruel  it  all  is." 

"  They're  too  far  gone  to  stop ;  I  suppose  that's  the  rea- 
son," said  Fred.  "  It  hasn't  been  easy  work  for  me  to  keep 
my  promise,  Ettie,  and  I'm  a  young  man;  Moshier  and 


BEGINNING  WORK.  479 

Orayme  are  middle-aged  men,  and  liquor  is  simply  necessary 
to  them." 

"  That  dreadful  old  Bunley  wasn't  too  old  to  reform,  it 
seems,"  said  Esther.  "  Fred,  I  believe  one  reason  is  that 
no  one  has  asked  them  to  stop.  See  how  good  Harry  Wain- 
wright  has  been  since  he  found  that  so  many  people  were 
interested  in  him  that  day !" 

"  Ye — es,"  drawled  Fred,  evidently  with  a  suspicion  of 
what  was  coming,  and  trying  to  change  the  subject  by  sud- 
denly burying  himself  in  his  memorandum-book.  But  this 
ruse  did  not  succeed,  for  Esther  crossed  the  room  to  where 
Fred  sat,  placed  her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  a  kiss  on 
his  forehead,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Fred,  you're  the  proper  person  to  reform  those  two 
men !" 

"  Oh,  Ettie,"  groaned  Fred,  "  you're  entirely  mistaken. 
"Why,  they'd  laugh  right  in  my  face,  if  they  didn't  get  angry 
and  knock  me  down.  Eeformers  want  to  be  older  men, 
better  men,  men  like  your  father,  for  instance,  if  people  are 
to  listen  to  them." 

"Father  says  they  need  to  be  men  who  understand  the 
nature  of  those  they  are  talking  to,"  replied  Esther ;  and 
you  once  told  me  that  you  understood  Moshier  and  Crayme 
perfectly." 

"  But  just  think  of  what  they  are,  Ettie,"  pleaded  Fred. 
"  Moshier  is  a  contractor,  and  Crayme's  a  steamboat  cap- 
tain; such  men  never  reform,  though  they  always  are  good 
fellows.  Why,  if  I  were  to  speak  to  either  of  them  on  the 
subject,  they'd  laugh  in  my  face,  or  curse  me.  The  only 
way  I  was  able  to  make  peace  with  them  for  stopping  drink- 
ing myself,  was  to  say  that  I  did  it  to  please  my  wife." 

"Did  they  accept  that  as  sufficient  excuse?"  asked 
Esther. 

"Yes,"  said  Fred  reluctantly,  and  biting  his  lips  over 
this  slip  of  his  tongue. 

"Then  you've  set  them  a  good  example,  and  I  can't 
believe  its  effect  will  be  lost,"  said  Esther 


4BO  LEARNING  SOME  LESSONS. 

"  I  sincerely  hope  it  won't,"  said  Fred,  very  willing  to 
seem  a  reformer  at  heart ,  "  nobody  would  be  gladder  than 
I  to  see  those  fellows  with  wives  as  happy  as  mine  seems 
to  be." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  follow  it  up,  Fred,  dear,  and  make 
sure  of  your  hopes  being  realized  ?  You  can't  imagine  how 
much  happier  /  would  be  if  I  could  meet  those  dear  women 
without  feeling  that  I  had  to  hide  the  joy  that's  so  hard  to 
keep  to  myself." 

The  conversation  continued  with  considerable  strain  to 
Fred's  amiability ;  but  his  sophistry  was  no  match  for  his 
wife's  earnestness,  and  he  was  finally  compelled  to  promise 
that  he  would  make  an  appeal  to  Crayme,  with  whom  he 
had  a  business  engagement,  on  the  arrival  of  Crayme's  boat, 
the  Excellence. 

Before  the  whistles  of  the  steamer  were  next  heard, 
however,  Esther  learned  something  of  the  sufferings  of 
would-be  reformers,  and  found  cause  to  wonder  who  was  to 
endure  most  that  Mrs.  Crayme  should  have  a  sober  hus- 
band ;  for  Fred  was  alternately  cross,  moody,  abstracted, 
and  inattentive,  and  even  sullenly  remarked  at  his  breakfast- 
table  one  morning  that  he  shouldn't  be  sorry  if  the  Excel- 
lence were  to  blow  up,  and  leave  Mrs.  Crayme  to  find  her 
happiness  in  widowhood.  But  no  such  luck  befell  the  lady : 
the  whistle-signals  of  the  Excellence  were  again  heard  in  the 
river,  and  the  nature  of  Fred's  business  with  the  captain 
made  it  unadvisable  for  Fred  to  make  an  excuse  for  leaving 
the  boat  unvisited. 

It  did  seem  to  Fred  Macdonald  as  if  everything  con- 
spired to  make  his  task  as  hard  as  it  could  possibly  be. 
Crayme  was  already  under  the  influence  of  more  liquor  than 
was  necessary  to  his  well-being,  and  the  boat  carried  as 
passengers  a  couple  of  men,  who,  though  professional  gam- 
blers, Crayme  found  very  jolly  company  when  they  were 
not  engaged  in  their  business  calling.  Besides,  Captain 
Crayme  was  running  against  time  with  an  opposition  boat 
which  had  just  been  put  upon  the  river,  and  he  appreciated 


BBANDT  AT  THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  TROUBLE.      481 

the  necessity  of  having  the  boat's  bar  well  stocked  and  freely 
opened  to  whoever  along  the  river  was  influential  in  making 
or  marring  the  reputation  of  steamboats.  Fred  finally  got 
the  captain  into  his  own  room,  however,  and  made  a  freight 
contract  so  absent-mindedly  that  the  sagacious  captain 
gained  an  immense  advantage  over  him ;  then  he  acted  so 
awkwardly,  and  looked  so  pale,  that  the  captain  suggested 
chills,  and  prescribed  brandy.  Fred  smiled  feebly,  and 
replied, 

"  No,  thank  you,  Sam ;  brandy's  at  the  bottom  of  the 
trouble.  I" — here  Fred  made  a  tremendous  attempt  to 
rally  himself — "I  want  you  to  swear  off,  Sam." 

The  astonishment  of  Captain  Crayme  was  marked 
enough  to  be  alarming  at  first ;  then  the  ludicrous  feature 
of  Fred's  request  struck  him  so  forcibly  that  he  burst  into 
a  laugh  before  whose  greatness  Fred  trembled  and  shrank. 

"Well,  by  thunder!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  when  he 
recovered  his  breath  ;  "  if  that  isn't  the  best  thing  I  ever 
heard  yet !  The  idea  of  a  steamboat  captain  swearing  off 
his  whisky !  Say,  Fred,  don't  you  want  me  to  join  the 
Church?  I  forgot  that  you'd  married  a  preacher's  daughter, 
or  I  wouldn't  have  been  so  puzzled  over  your  white  face 
to-day.  Sam  Crayme  brought  down  to  cold  water ! 
Wouldn't  the  boys  along  the  river  get  up  a  sweet  lot  of 
names  for  me — the  '  Cold-water  Captain,'  '  Psalm-singing 
Sammy!'  and  then,  when  an  editor  or  any  other  visitor 
came  aboard,  wouldn't  I  look  the  thing,  hauling  out  glasses 
and  a  pitcher  of  water !  Say,  Fred,  does  your  wife  let  you 
drink  tea  and  coffee  ?" 

"  Sam  !"  exclaimed  Fred,  springing  to  his  feet,  "  if  you 
don't  stop  slanting  at  my  wife,  I'll  knock  you  down." 

"  Good !"  said  the  captain,  without  exhibiting  any  signs 
of  trepidation.  "  Now  you  talk  like  yourself  again.  I  beg 
your  pardon,  old  fellow ;  you  know  I  was  only  joking,  but  it 
is  too  funny.  You'll  have  to  take  a  trip  or  two  with  me 
again,  though,  and  be  reformed." 

"Not  any,"  said  Fred,  resuming  his  chair;  "take  your 
wife  along,  and  reform  yourself." 


482       "STEAMBOATS  CAN'T  BE  RUN  WITHOUT  WHISKY." 

"Look  here,  now,  young  man,"  said  the  captain,  "you're 
cracking  on  too  much  steam.  Honestly,  Fred,  I've  kept  a 
sharp  eye  on  you  for  two  or  three  months,  and  I  am  right 
glad  you  can  let  whisky  alone.  I've  seen  times  w\hen  I 
wished  I  were  in  your  boots ;  but  steamboats  can't  be  run 
without  liquor,  however  it  may  be  with  woolen  mills." 

"  That's  all  nonsense,"  said  Fred.  "  You  get  trade 
because  you  run  your  boat  on  time,  charge  fair  prices,  and 
deliver  your  freight  in  good  order.  Who  gives  you  business- 
because  you  drink  and  treat  ?" 

The  captain,  being  unable  to  recall  any  shipper  of  the 
class  alluded  to  by  Fred,  changed  his  course. 

"  'Tisn't  so  much  that,"  said  he  ;  "  it's  a  question  of  repu- 
tation. How  would  I  feel  to  go  ashore  at  Pittsburgh  or 
Louisville  or  Cincinnati,  and  refuse  to  drink  with  anybody  ? 
Why,  'twould  ruin  me.  It's  different  with  you  who  don't 
have  to  meet  anybody  but  religious  old  farmers.  Besides, 
you've  just  been  married." 

"And  you've  been  married  for  five  years,"  said  Fred,  with 
a  sudden  sense  of  help  at  hand.  "  How  do  you  suppose 
your  wife  feels  ?" 

Captain  Crayme's  jollity  subsided  a  little,  but  with  only 
a  little  hesitation  he  replied  : 

"  Oh  !  she's  used  to  it ;  she  doesn't  mind  it." 

"  You're  the  only  person  in  town  that  thinks  so,  Sam," 
said  Fred. 

Captain  Crayme  got  up  and  paced  his  little  stateroom  two 
or  three  times,  with  a  face  full  of  uncertainty.  At  last  he 
replied  : 

"  Well,  between  old  friends,  Fred,  I  don't  think  so  very 
strongly  myself.  Hang  it !  I  wish  I'd  been  brought  up  a 
preacher,  or  something  of  the  kind,  so  I  wouldn't  have  had 
business  ruining  my  chances  of  being  the  right  sort  of  a 
family  man.  Emily  don't  like  my  drinking,  and  I've  promised 
to  look  up  some  other  business  ;  but  'tisn't  easy  to  get  out 
of  steamboating  when  you've  got  a  good  boat  and  a  first-rate 
trade.  Once  she  felt  so  awfully  about  it  that  I  did  swear  off 


SOMETHING  NO   OTHER  CAPTAIN  EVER  DID. 

— don't  tell  anybody,  for  God's  sake  !  but  I  did.  I  had  to 
look  out  for  my  character  along  the  river,  though ;  so  I  swore 
off  on  the  sly,  and  played  sick.  I'd  give  my  orders  to  the 
mates  and  clerks  from  my  bed  in  here,  and  then  I'd  lock 
myself  in,  and  read  novels  and  the  Bible  to  keep  from 
thinking.  'Twas  awful  dry  work  all  around;  but  *  whole 
hog  or  none  '  is  my  style,  you  know.  There  was  fun  in  it, 
though,  to  think  of  doing  something  that  no  other  captain 
on  the  river  ever  did.  But  thunder !  by  the  time  night 
came,  I  was  so  tired  of  loafing  that  I  wrapped  a  blanket 
around  my  head  and  shoulders,  like  a  Hoosier,  sneaked  out 
the  outer  door  here,  and  walked  the  guards,  between  towns  ; 
but  I  was  so  frightened  for  fear  some  one  would  know  me 
that  the  walk  did  me  more  harm  than  good.  And  blue ! 
why  a  whole  cargo  of  indigo  would  have  looked  like  a  snow- 
storm alongside  of  my  feelings  the  second  day ;  'pon  my 
word,  Fred,  I  caught  myself  crying  in  the  afternoon,  just 
before  dark,  and  I  couldn't  find  out  what  for,  either.  I  tell 
you  I  was  scared,  and  things  got  worse  as  time  spun  along ; 
the  dreams  I  had  that  night  made  me  howl,  and  I  felt  worse 
yet  when  daylight  came  along  again.  Toward  the  next 
night  I  was  just  afraid  to  go  to  sleep ;  so  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  get  well,  go  on  duty,  and  dodge  everybody  that  i* 
seemed  I  ought  to  drink  with.  Why,  the  Lord  bless  your 
soul!  the  first  time  we  shoved  off  from  a  town  I  walked  up 
to  the  bar  just  as  I  always  did  after  leaving  towns ;  the  bar- 
keeper set  out  my  particular  bottle  naturally  enough, 
knowing  nothing  about  my  little  game  ;  I  poured  my  couple 
of  fingers,  and  dropped  it  down  as  innocent  as  a  lamb  before 
I  knew  what  I  was  doing.  By  George !  my  boy,  'twas  like 
opening  the  lock-gates ;  I  was  just  heavenly  gay  before 
morning.  There  was  one  good  thing  about  it,  though — I 
never  told  Emily  I  was  going  to  swear  off ;  I  was  going  to 
surprise  her,  so  I  had  the  disappointment  all  to  myself. 
Maybe  she  isn't  as  happy  as  your  wife  ;  but  whatever  else 
I've  done,  or  not  done,  I've  never  lied  to  her." 

"It's  a  pity  you  hadn't  promised  her  then,  before  you 


484  MAKING   BEPUTATTON. 

tried  your  experiment,"  said  Fred.     The  captain  shook  his 
head  gravely,  and  replied  : 

"  I  guess  not ;  why,  I'd  have  either  killed  somebody  or 
killed  myself  if  I'd  gone  on  a  day  or  two  longer.  I  s'pose 
I'd  have  got  along  better  if  I'd  had  anybody  to  keep  me  com- 
pany, or  reason  with  me  like  a  schoolmaster ;  but  I  hadn't. 
I  didn't  know  anybody  that  I  dared  trust  with  a  secret  like 
that." 

"  I  hadn't  reformed  then,  eh  ?"  queried  Fred. 

,"YouV  why  you're  one  of  the  very  fellows  I  dodged! 
Just  as  I  got  aboard  the  boat — I  came  down  late,  on  pur- 
pose— I  saw  you  out  aft.  I  tell  you,  I  was  under  my  blank- 
ets, with  a  towel  wrapped  around  my  jaw,  in  about  one 
minute,  and  was  just  a-praying  that  you  hadn't  seen  me 
come  aboard." 

Fred  laughed,  but  his  laughter  soon  made  place  for  a 
look  of  tender  solicitude.  The  unexpected  turn  that  had 
been  reached  in  the  conversation  he  had  so  dreaded,  and 
the  sympathy  which  had  been  awakened  in  him  by  Crayme's 
confidence  and  openness,  temporarily  made  of  Fred  Macdon- 
.ald  a  man  with  whom  Fred  himself  had  never  before  been 
acquainted.  A  sudden  idea  struck  him. 

"Sam,"  said  he,  "try  it  over  again,  and  Til  stay  by  you. 
I'll  nurse  you,  crack  jokes,  fight  off  the  blues  for  you,  keep 
your  friends  away.  I'll  even  break  your  neck  for  you,  if 
you  like,  seeing  it's  you,  if  it'll  keep  you  straight." 

"  Will  you,  though  ?"  said  the  captain,  with  a  look  of 
-admiration,  undisguised  except  by  wonder.  "You're  the 
first  friend  I  ever  had,  then.  By  thunder !  how  marrying 
Ettie  Wedgewell  did  improve  you,  Fred!  But,"  and  the 
captain's  face  lengthened  again,  "  there's  a  fellow's  reputa- 
tion to  be  considered,  and  where'll  mine  be  after  it  gets 
uround  that  I've  sworn  off  ?" 

'  "  Reputation  be  hanged !"  exclaimed  Fred.  "  Lose  it,  for 
your  wife's  sake.  Besides,  you'll  make  reputation  instead 
of  lose  it :  you'll  be  as  famous  as  the  Bed  Biver  Baft,  or 
the  Mammoth  Cave — the  only  thing  of  the  kind  west  of  the 


THE  GREATEST  OBSTACLE  MET  FIRST.  485 

Alleghanies.  As  for  the  boys,  tell  them  I've  bet  you  a  hun- 
dred that  you  can't  stay  off  your  liquor  for  a  year,  and  that 
you're  not  the  man  to  take  a  dare." 

"  That  sounds  like  business,"  exclaimed  the  captainr 
springing  to  his  feet. 

"Let  me  draw  up  a  pledge,"  said  Fred,  eagerly,  drawing 
pen  and  ink  toward  him. 

"  No,  you  don't,  my  boy,"  said  the  captain,  gently,  and 
pushing  Fred  out  of  the  room  and  upon  the  guards.  "Emi- 
ly shall  do  that.  Below  there ! — Perkins,  I've  got  to  go  up 
town  for  an  hour  ;  see  if  you  can't  pick  up  freight  to  pay 
laying-up  expenses  somehow.  Fred,  go  home  and  get  your 
traps  ;  '  now's  the  accepted  time,'  as  your  father-in-law  has 
dinged  at  me,  many  a  Sunday,  from  the  pulpit." 

As  Sam  Crayne  strode  toward  the  body  of  the  town,  his 
business  instincts  took  strong  hold  of  his  sentiments,  in 
the  manner  natural  alike  to  saints  and  sinners,  and  he  laid 
a  plan  of  operations  against  whisky  which  was  character- 
ized by  the  apparent  recklessness  but  actual  prudence 
which  makes  for  glory  in  steamboat  captains,  as  it  does  in 
army  commanders.  As  was  his  custom  in  business,  he  first 
drove  at  full  speed  upon  the  greatest  obstacles  ;  so  it  came 
to  pas?  r?  "burst  into  his  own  house,  threw  his  arm  around 
his  wife  with  more  than  ordinary  tenderness,  and  then  look- 
ing into  her  eves, with  a  daring  born  of  utter  desperation, 
said  : 

"Emily,  I  cams  back  to  sign  the  strongest  temperance 
pledge  that  you  can  possibly  draw  up;  Fred  Macdonald 
wanted  to  write  out  one,  but  I  told  him  that  nobody  but  you 
should  do  it ;  you've  earned  the  right  to,  poor  girl."  No 
such  duty  and  surprise  having  ever  before  come  hand-in-hand 
to  Mrs.  Crayme,  she  acted  as  every  true  woman  will  imagine 
that  she  herself  would  have  done  under  similar  circumstan- 
ces, and  this  action  made  it  not  so  easy  as  it  might  otherwise 
have  been  to  see  just  where  the  pen  and  ink  were,  or  to  pre- 
vent the  precious  document,  when  completed,  from  being 
disfigured  by  peculiar  blots  which  were  neither  fingermarks 


486  DREADFUL  BUSINESS  WAY. 

nor  ink-spots,  yet  which  in  shape  and  size  suggested  both 
of  these  indications  of  unneatness.  Mrs.  Crayme  was  not 
an  adept  at  literary  composition,  and,  being  conscious  of 
her  own  deficiency,  she  begged  that  a  verbal  pledge  might 
be  substituted ;  but  her  husband  was  firm. 

"  A  contract  won't  steer  worth  a  cent  unless  it's  in  writ- 
ing, Emily,"  said  he,  looking  over  his  wife's  shoulder  as 
she  wrote.  "  Gracious,  girl,  you're  making  it  too  thin  ;  any 
greenhorn  could  sail  right  through  that  and  all  around  it. 
Here,  let  me  have  it."  And  Crayme  wrote,  dictating  aloud 
to  himself  as  he  did  so,  "And  the — party — of  the  first  part 
— hereby  agrees  to — do  everything — else  that  the — spirit  of 
this — agreement — seems  to  the  party — of  the  second — part 
to — indicate  or — imply."  This  he  read  over  to  his  wife, 
saying : 

"  That's  the  way  we  fix  contracts  that  aren't  ship-shape, 
Emily;  a  steamboat  couldn't  be  run  in  any  other  way." 
Then  Crayme  wrote  at  the  foot  of  the  paper,  "Sam. 
Crayme,  Capt.  Str.  Excellence"  surveyed  the  document  with 
evident  pride,  and  handed  it  to  his  wife,  saying : 

"  Now,  you  see,  you've  got  me  so  I  can't  ever  get  out  of 
it  by  trying  to  make  out  that  'twas  some  other  Sam  Crayme 
that  you  reformed." 

"  Oh  husband !"  said  Mrs.  Crayme,  throwing  her  arms 
about  the  captain's  neck,  "don't  talk  in  that  dreadful  busi- 
ness way !  I'm  too  happy  to  bear  it.  I  want  to  go  with 
you  on  this  trip." 

The  captain  shrank  away  from  his  wife's  arms,  and  a 
cold  perspiration  started  all  over  him  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  don't,  little  girl !  Wait  till  next  trip.  There's  an 
unpleasant  set  of  passengers  aboard  ;  the  barometer  points 
to  rainy  weather,  so  you'd  have  to  stay  in  the  cabin  all  the 
time ;  our  cook  is  sick,  and  his  cubs  serve  up  the  most  in- 
fernal messes ;  we're  light  of  freight,  and  have  got  to  stop 
at  every  warehouse  on  the  river,  and  the  old  boat'll  be 
either  shrieking,  or  bumping,  or  blowing  off  steam  the 
whole  continual  time." 


THE  BABY  AND  HIS  NTJKSE.  487 

Mrs.  Crayme's  happiness  had  been  frightening  some  of 
her  years  away,  and  her  smile  carried  Sam  himself  back  to 
his  pre-marital  period  as  she  said  : 

"  Never  mind  the  rest ;  I  see  you  don't  want  me  to  go," 
and  then  she  became  Mrs.  Crayme  again  as  she  said,  press- 
ing her  face  closely  to  her  husband's  breast,  "  but  I  hope 
you  won't  get  any  freight,  anytvhere,  so  you  can  get  home 
-all  the  sooner.'' 

Then  the  captain  called  on  Dr.  White,  and  announced 
«uch  a  collection  of  symptoms  that  the  doctor  grew 
-alarmed,  insisted  on  absolute  quiet,  and  conveyed  Crayme 
in  his  own  carriage  to  the  boat,  saw  him  into  his  berth,  and 
igave  to  Fred  Macdonald  a  multitude  of  directions  and  cau- 
tions, the  sober  recording  of  which  upon  paper  was  of 
great  service  in  saving  Fred  from  suffering  over  the 
•Quixotic  aspect  which  the  whole  project  had  begun,  in  his 
mind,  to  take  on.  He  felt  ashamed  even  to  look  squarely 
into  Crayme's  eye,  and  his  mind  was  greatly  relieved  when 
ihe  captain  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  and  exclaimed : 

"  Fred,  for  goodness'  sake  get  out  of  here  ;  I  feel  enough 
like  a  baby  now,  without  having  a  nurse  alongside.  I'll  do 
well  enough  for  a  few  hours  ;  just  look  in  once  in  a  while." 

During  the  first  day  of  the  trip,  Crayme  made  no  trouble 
for  himself  or  Fred;  under  the  friendly  shelter  of  night, 
the  two  men  had  a  two-hour  chat,  which  was  alternately 
humorous,  business-like,  and  retrospective,  and  then 
'Crayme  fell  asleep.  The  next  day  was  reasonably  pleasant 
out  of  doors,  so  the  captain  wrapped  himself  in  a  blanket 
and  sat  in  an  extension-chair  on  the  guards,  where  with 
solemn  face  he  received  some  condolences  which  went  far 
to  keep  him  in  good  humor  after  the  sympathizers  had  de- 
parted. On  the  second  night  the  captain  was  restless,  and 
the  two  men  played  cards.  On  the  third  day  the  captain's 
physique  reached  the  bottom  of  its  stock  of  patience,  and 
protested  indignantly  at  the  withdrawal  of  its  customary 
•stimulus ;  and  it  acted  with  more  consistency,  though  no 
less  ugliness,  than  the  human  mind  does  when  under 


488  STORIES  AND   MUSIC. 

excitement  and  destitute  of  control.  The  captain  grew 
terribly  despondent,  and  Fred  found  ample  use  for  all  the 
good  stories  lie  knew.  Some  of  these  amused  the  captain 
greatly,  but  after  one  of  them  he  sighed. 

"  Poor  old  Billy  Hockess  told  me  that  the  only  time  I 
ever  heard  it  before,  and  didn't  we  have  a  glorious  time  that 
night !  He'd  just  put  all  his  money  into  the  Yenesei — that 
blew  up  and  took  him  with  it  only  a  year  afterward — and 
he  gave  us  a  new  kind  of  punch  he'd  got  the  hang  of  when 
he  went  East  for  the  boat's  carpets.  'Twas  made  of  two 
bottles  of  brandy,  one  whisky,  two  rum,  one  gin,  two 
sherry,  and  four  claret,  with  guava  jelly,  and  lemon  peel 
that  had  been  soaking  in  curacoa  and  honey  for  a  month. 
It  looks  kind  of  weak  when  you  think  about  it,  but  there 
were  only  six  of  us  in  the  party,  and  ifc  went  to  the  spot  by 
the  time  we  got  through.  Golly,  but  didn't  we  make  Eome 
howl  that  night !" 

Fred  shuddered,  and  experimented  upon  his  friend  with 
song;  he  was  rewarded  by  hearing  the  captain  hum  an 
occasional  accompaniment ;  but,  as  Fred  got  fairly  into  a 
merry  Irish  song  about  one  Terry  O'Kann,  and  uttered  the 
lines  in  which  the  poet  states  that  the  hero 

" took  whisky  punch 

Ivery  night  for  his  lunch," 

the  captain  put  such  a  world  of  expression  into  a  long' 
drawn  sigh  that  Fred  began  to  feel  depressed  himself ;  be- 
sides, songs  were  not  numerous  in  Fred's  repertoire,  and 
those  in  which  there  was  no  allusion  to  drinking  could  be 
counted  on  half  his  fingers.  Then  he  borrowed  the  bar- 
keeper's violin,  and  played  the  airs  which  had  been  his  favor- 
ites in  the  days  of  his  courtship,  until  Crayme  exclaimed : 

"  Say,  Fred,  we're  not  playing  church  ;  give  us  something 
that  don't  bring  all  of  a  fellow's  dead  friends  along  with  it." 

Fred  reddened,  swung  his  bow  viciously,  and  dashed 
into  "Natchez  Under  the  Hill,"  an  old  air  which  would  have 
delighted  Offenbach,  but  which  will  never  appear  in  a  col- 
lection of  classical  music. 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY.  489 

"All!  that's  something  like  music,"  exclaimed  Captain 
Crayme,  as  Fred  paused  suddenly  to  repair  a  broken  string. 
"  I  never  hear  that  but  I  think  of  "Wesley  Treepoke,  that 
used  to  run  the  Quitman;  went  afterward  to  the  Rising 
Planet,  when  the  Quitman 's  owners  put  her  on  a  new  line  as 
an  opposition  boat.  Wess  and  I  used  to  work  things  so  as 
to  make  Louisville  at  the  same  time — he  going  up,  I  going 
down,  and  then  turn  about — and  we  always  had  a  glorious 
night  of  it,  with  one  or  two  other  lively  boys  that  we'd  pick 
up.  And  "Wess  had  a  fireman  that  could  fiddle  off  old 
*  Natchez'  in  a  way  that  would  just  make  a  corpse  dance 
till  its  teeth  rattled,  atid  that  fireman  would  always  be 
called  in  just  as  we'd  got  to  the  place  where  you  can't  tell 
what  sort  of  whisky  'tis  you're  drinking ;  and  I  tell  you, 
'twas  so  heavenly  that  a  fellow  could  forgive  the  last  boat 
that  beat  him  on  the  river,  or  stole  a  landing  from  him. 
And  siich  whisky  as  Wess  kept !  used  to  go  cruising  around 
the  back  country,  sampling  little  lots  run  out  of  private 
stills.  He'd  always  find  nectar,  you'd  better  believe.  Poor 
old  boy !  the  tremens  took  him  off  at  last.  He  hove  his 
pilot  overboard  just  before  he  died,  and  put  a  bullet  into 
Pete  Langston,  his  second  clerk — they  were  both  trying  to 
hold  him,  you  see — but  they  never  laid  it  up  against  him. 
I  wish  I  knew  what  became  of  the  whiskey  he  had  on  hand 
when  he  walked  off — no,  I  don't  either ;  what  am  I  thinking 
about  ?  But  I  do,  though — hanged  if  I  don't !" 

Fred  grew  pale :  he  had  heard  of  drunkards  growing 
delirious  upon  ceasing  to  drink ;  he  had  heard  of  men  who, 
in  periods  of  aberration,  were  impelled  by  the  motive  of  the 
last  act  or  recollection  which  strongly  impressed  them ; 
what  if  the  captain  should  suddenly  become  delirious,  and 
try  to  throw  him  overboard  or  shoot  him  ?  Fred  determined 
to  get  the  captain  at  once  upon  the  guards — no,  into  the 
cabin,  where  there  would  be  no  sight  of  water  to  suggest 
anything  dreadful — and  search  his  room  for  pistols.  But 
the  captain  objected  to  being  moved  into  the  cabin. 

"  The  boys,"  said  the  captain,  alluding  to  the  gamblers, 


£90  GOING  BACK  ON  GOOD  TIMES. 

"  are  mighty  sharp  in  the  eye,  and  like  as  not  they'd  see 
through  my  little  game,  and  then  where'd  my  reputation 
be  ?  Speaking  of  the  boys  reminds  me  of  Harry  Genang, 
that  cleaned  out  that  rich  Kentucky  planter  at  bluff  one 
night,  and  then  swore  off  gambling  for  life,  and  gave  a 
good-by  supper  aboard  the  boat.  'Twas  just  at  the  time 
when  Prince  Imperial  Champagne  came  out,  and  the  whole 
supper  was  made  of  that  splendid  stuff.  I  guess  I  must 
have  put  away  four  bottles,  and  if  I'd  known  how  much  he'd 
ordered,  I  could  have  carried  away  a  couple  more.  I've 
always  been  sorry  I  didn't." 

Fred  wondered  if  there  was  any  subject  of  conversation 
which  would  not  suggest  liquor  to  the  captain ;  he  even 
brought  himself  to  ask  if  Crayme  had  seen  the  new  Metho- 
dist Church  at  Barton  since  it  had  been  finished. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  I  started  to  walk  Moshier 
home  one  night,  after  we'd  punished  a  couple  of  bottles  of 
old  Crow  whisky  at  our  house,  and  he  caved  in  all  of  a  sud- 
den, and  I  laid  him  out  on  the  steps  of  that  very  church 
till  I  could  get  a  carriage.  Those  were  my  last  two  bottles- 
of  Crow,  too;  it's  too  bad  the  way  the  good  things  of  this 
life  paddle  off." 

The  captain  raised  himself  in  his  berth,  sat  on  the  edge 
thereof,  stood  up,  stared  out  of  the  window,  and  began  to  pace 
his  room  with  his  head  down  and  his  hands  behind  his  back. 
Little  by  little  he  raised  his  head,  drooped  his  hands,  flung 
himself  into  a  chair,  beat  the  devil's  tattoo  on  the  table, 
sprang  up  excitedly,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  I'm  going  back  on  all  the  good  times  I  ever  had." 

"  You're  only  getting  ready  to  try  a  new  kind,  Sam,"  said 
Fred. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  back  on  my  friends." 

"  Not  on  all  of  them ;  the  dead  ones  would  pat  you  on 
the  back,  if  they  got  a  chance." 

"  A  world  without  whisky  looks  infernally  dismal  to  a 
fellow  that  isn't  half  done  living." 

"  It  looks  first-rate  to  a  fellow  that  hasn't  got  any  back- 
down in  him." 


THE   CAPTAIN  WHIPPED.  491 

"  Curse  you  !  I  wish  I'd  made  you  back  down  when  you 
first  talked  temperance  to  me." 

"  Go  ahead  !  Then  curse  your  wife — don't  be  afraid  ; 
you've  been  doing  it  ever  since  you  married  her." 

Crayme  flew  at  Macdonald's  throat ;  the  younger  man 
grappled  the  captain  and  threw  him  into  his  bunk.  The 
captain  struggled  and  glared  like  a  tiger ;  Fred  gasped 
between  the  special  efforts  dictated  by  self-preservation : 

"  Sam,  I — promised  to — to  see  you — through — and  I'm 
— going  to — do  it,  if — if  I  have  to — break  your  neck." 

The  captain  made  one  tremendous  effort ;  Fred  braced 
one  foot  against  the  table,  put  a  knee  on  the  captain's 
breast,  held  both  the  captain's  wrists  tightly,  looked  full 
into  the  captain's  eyes,  and  breathed  a  small  prayer — for  his 
own  safety.  For  a  moment  or  two,  perhaps  longer,  the 
captain  strained  violently,  and  then  relaxed  all  effort,  and 
cried : 

"  Fred,  you've  whipped  me  !" 

" Nonsense  !  whip  yourself,"  exclaimed  Fred,  "if  you're 
going  to  stop  drinking." 

,  The  captain  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  and  said  nothing ; 
but  he  seemed  to  be  so  persistently  swallowing  something 
that  Fred  suspected  a  secreted  bottle,  and  moved  an  inves- 
tigation so  suddenly  that  the  captain  had  not  time  in  which 
to  wipe  his  eyes. 

"  Hang  it,  Fred,"  said  he,  rather  brokenly ;  "  how  can 
what's  babyish  in  men  whip  a  full-grown  steamboat  cap- 
tain?" 

"  The  same  way  that  it  whipped  a  full-grown  woolen-mill 
manager  once,  I  suppose,  old  boy,"  said  Macdonald. 

"  Is  that  so?"  exclaimed  the  captain,  astonishment  getting 
so  sudden  an  advantage  over  shame  that  he  turned  over  and 
looked  his  companion  in  the  face.  "  Why — how  are  you, 
Fred?  I  feel  as  if  I  was  just  being  introduced.  Didn't 
anybody  else  help  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Fred,  "  a  woman ;  but — you've  got  a  wife, 
too." 


492  WHISKY  versus  WIFE. 

Crayme  fell  back  on  his  pillow  and  sighed.  "  If  I  could 
only  think  about  her,  Fred  !  But  I  can't ;  whisky's  the  only 
thing  that  comes  into  my  mind." 

"  Can't  think  about  her  !"  exclaimed  Fred ;  "  why,  are 
you  acquainted  with  her  yet,  I  wonder  ?  Pll  never  forget 
the  evening  you  were  married." 

"That  was  jolly,  wasn't  it?"  said  Crayme.  "I'll  bet 
such  sherry  was  never  opened  west  of  the  Alleghanies 
before  or " 

"  Hang  your  sherry  !"  roared  Fred ;  "  it's  your  wife  that 
I  remember.  You  couldn't  see  her,  of  course,  for  you  were 
standing  alongside  of  her ;  but  the  rest  of  us — well,  I 
wished  myself  in  your  place,  that's  all." 

"  Did  you,  though  ?"  said  Crayme,  with  a  smile  which 
seemed  rather  proud ;  "  well,  I  guess  old  Major  Pike  did 
too,  for  he  drank  to  her  about  twenty  times  that  evening. 
Let's  see ;  she  wore  a  white  moire  antique,  I  think  they 
called  it,  and  it  cost  twenty-onu  dollars  a  dozen,  and  there 
was  at  least  one  broken  bottle  in  every " 

"And  I  made  up  my  mind  she  was  throwing  herself 
away,  in  marrying  a  fellow  that  would  be  sure  to  care  more 
for  whisky  than  he  did  for  her,"  interrupted  Fred. 

"  Ease  off,  Fred,  ease  off  now ;  there  wasn't  any  whisky 
there  ;  I  tried  to  get  some  of  the  old  Twin  Tulip  brand  for 
punch,  but " 

"  But  the  devil  happened  to  be  asleep,  and  you  got  a 
chance  to  behave  yourself,"  said  Fred. 

Crayme  looked  appealingly.  "  Fred,"  said  he,  "  tell  me 
about  her  yourself;  I'll  take  it  as  a  favor." 

"  Why,  she  looked  like  a  lot  of  lilies  and  roses,"  said 
Fred,  "  except  that  you  couldn't  tell  where  one  left  off  and 
the  other  began.  As  she  came  into  the  room  1  felt  like 
getting  down  on  my  knees.  Old  Bayle  was  telling  me  a 
vile  story  just  then,  but  the  minute  site  came  in  he  stopped 
as  if  he  was  shot." 

"He  wouldn't  drink  a  drop  that  evening,"  said  Crayme, 
"  and  I've  puzzled  my  wits  over  that  for  five  years " 


WIFE  WINS.  493 

"She  looked  so  proud  of  you"  interrupted  Fred,  with 
some  impatience. 

"  Did  she  ?"  asked  Crayme.  "  Well,  I  guess  I  was  a 
good-looking  fellow  in  those  days ;  I  know  Pike  came  up  to 
me  once,  with  a  glass  in  his  hand,  and  said  that  he  ought 
to  drink  to  me,  for  I  was  the  finest-looking  groom  he'd  ever 
seen.  He  was  so  tight,  though,  that  he  couldn't  hold  his 
glass  steady ;  and  though  you  know  I  never  had  a  drop  of 
stingy  blood  in  me,  it  did  go  to  my  heart  to  see  him  spill 
that  gorgeous  sherry." 

" She  looked  very  proud  of  you"  Fred  repeated ;  " but  I 
can't  see  why,  for  I've  never  seen  her  do  it  since." 

"You  will,  though,  hang  you!"  exclaimed  the  captain. 
"  Get  out  of  here  !  I  can  think  about  her  now,  and  I  don't 
want  anybody  else  around.  No  rudeness  meant,  you  know, 
Fred."  * 

Fred  Macdonald  retired  quietly,  taking  with  him  the 
keys  of  both  doors,  and  feeling  more  exhausted  than  he 
had  been  on  any  Saturday  night  since  the  building  of  the 
mill 


FBEE  SPEECH. 


[Tkt  following  is  quoted,  by  permission,  from  Mr.  Hdbberlon't  volume,  "  THE  SCRIPTURE  CLCB 
OF  VALLEY  REST,"  published  by  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  Soxs,  New  York.] 


rpHE  members  of  the  Scripture  Club  did  not  put  off  their 
-  holy  interest  with  their  Sunday  garments,  as  people  of 
the  world  do  with  most  things  religious.  When  the  little 
steamboat  OaJdeaf  started  on  her  Monday  morning  trip  for 
the  city,  the  members  of  the  Scripture  Club  might  be  iden- 
tified by  their  neglect  of  the  morning  papers  and  their  ten- 
dency to  gather  in  small  knots  and  engage  in  earnest  con- 
versation. In  a  corner  behind  the  paddle-box,  securely 
screened  from  wind  and  sun,  sat  Mr.  Jodderel  and  Mr. 
Primm,  the  latter  adoring  with  much  solemn  verbosity  the 
sacred  word,  and  the  former  piling  text  upon  text  to 
demonstrate  the  final  removal  of  all  the  righteous  to  a  new 
state  of  material  existence  in  a  better-ordered  planet.  In 
the  one  rocking-chair  of  the  cabin  sat  Insurance  President 
Lottson,  praising  to  Mr.  Hooper,  who  leaned  obsequiously 
upon  the  back  of  the  chair  and  occasionally  hopped  viva- 
ciously around  it,  the  self-disregard  of  the  disciples,  and  the 
evident  inability  of  any  one  within  sight  to  follow  their 
example.  The  prudent  Wagget  was  interviewing  Dr.  Fah- 
renglotz,  who  was  going  to  attend  the  meeting  of  a  sort  of 
Theosophic  Society,  composed  almost  entirely  of  Germans, 
and  was  endeavoring  to  learn  what  points  there  might  be 
in  the  Doctor's  belief  which  would  make  a  man  wiser  unto 
salvation,  while  Captain  Maile  stood  by,  a  critical  listener, 
and  distributed  pitying  glances  between  the  two.  Well  for- 
ward, but  to  the  rear  of  the  general  crowd,  stood  Deacon 
Bates,  in  an  attitude  which  might  have  seemed  conservative 

494 


SOME  SCRIPTURE  CLUB  FOLKS.  495 

were  it  not  manifestly  helpless  ;  Mr.  Buffle,  with  the  smile 
peculiar  to  the  successful  business  man  ;  Lawyer  Scott,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  had  so  much  to  say  that  time  oould 
not  possibly  suffice  in  which  to  tell  it  all ;  Squire  Wood- 
house,  who  was  in  search  of  a  good  market  for  hay ;  Princi- 
pal Alleman,  who  was  in  chase  of  an  overdue  shipment  of 
text-books  ;  and  Mr.  Badley,  who,  with  indifferent  success, 
was  filling  the  self-assigned  roll  of  moderator  of  the  little 
assemblage. 

"  Nothing  settled  by  the  meeting  ?"  said  Mr.  Buffle,  echo- 
ing a  despondent  suggestion  by  Deacon  Bates.  "  Of  course 
not.  You  don't  suppose  that  what  theologians  have  been 
squabbling  over  for  two  thousand  years  can  be  settled  in  a 
day,  do  you  ?  We  made  a  beginning  and  that's  a  good  half 
of  anything.  Why,  I  and  every  other  man  that  builds  boats 
have  been  hard  at  work  for  years,  looking  for  the  best 
model,  and  we  haven't  settled  the  question  yet.  We're  in 
•earnest  about  it — we  can't  help  but  be,  for  there's  money  in 
it,  and  while  we're  waiting  we  do  the  next  best  thing — we 
use  the  best  ones  we  know  about." 

"Don't  you  think  you'd  get  at  the  model  sooner,  if  some 
of  you  weren't  pig-headed  about  your  own,  and  too  fond  of 
abusing  each  other's?"  asked  Mr.  Kadley. 

"Certainly,"  admitted  Mr.  Buffle,  "and  that's  why  I 
wanted  us  to  get  up  a  Bible-class  like  the  one  we  have.  If 
everybody  will  try  to  see  what's  good  in  his  neighbor's 
theories  and  what's  bad  in  his  own,  his  fortune — his  religion, 
I  mean — is  a  sure  thing.  Fiddling  on  one  string  always 
makes  a  thin  sort  of  a  tune." 

"  There  were  a  good  many  small  tunes  begun  yesterday, 
then,"  observed  Squire  Woodhouse. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Buffle,  "I  thought  something  of  the 
kind,  myself,  but  a  man  can't  break  an  old  habit  to  pieces 
all  at  once.  Things  will  be  different  before  long,  though." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  they  shouldn't,"  said  Principal 
Alleman,  "  excepting  one  reason  that's  stronger  than  any 
other.  You  can't  get  to  the  bottom  of  any  of  the  sayings  ol 


496  DISCUSSIONS   OUT  OF   MEETINGS. 

Christ,  the  Prophets  or  the  Apostles,  without  finding  that 
they  mean,  Do  Eight.  And  when  you  reach  that  point, 
what  is  in  the  man  and  not  what  is  in  the  book  comes  into 
play ;  or,  rather,  it  always  should  but  seldom  does." 

"I  suppose  that's  so,"  said  Mr.  Buffle,  soberly. 

"In  and  of  ourselves  we  can  do  nothing,"  remarked 
Deacon  Bates. 

"It's  very  odd,  then,  that  we  should  have  been  told  to  do 
so  much,"  replied  Principal  Alleman. 

"It  was  to  teach  us  our  dependence  upon  a  higher 
power,"  said  Deacon  Bates,  with  more  than  his  usual 
energy. 

"  Are  we  only  to  be  taught,  and  never  to  learn,  then  ?" 
asked  Principal  Alleman.  "Some  of  my  pupils  seem  to 
think  so,  but  those  who  depend  least  upon  the  teacher  and 
act  most  fully  up  to  what  they  have  been  taught  are  the 
ones  I  call  my  best  scholars." 

Deacon  Bates's  lower  lip  pushed  up  its  neighbor  ;  in  the 
school-room,  the  Principal's  theory  might  apply,  but  in 
religion  it  was  different,  or  he  (Deacon  Bates)  had  always 
been  mistaken,  and  this  possibility  was  not  to  be  thought 
of  for  an  instant.  Fortunately  for  his  peace  of  mind,  the 
boat  touched  her  city  dock  just  then,  and  from  that  hour 
until  five  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  left  his  store  for  the 
boat,  religious  theories  absented  themselves  entirely  from 
Deacon  Bates's  mind. 

The  last  meeting  of  the  class  was  still  the  most  popular 
subject  of  conversation  among  the  members,  however,  and 
interest  of  such  a  degree  could  not  help  be  contagious. 
Other  residents  of  Valley  Rest,  overhearing  some  of  the 
chats  between  the  members,  expressed  a  desire  to  listen  to 
the  discussions  of  the  class,  and  to  all  was  extended  a 
hearty  welcome,  without  regard  to  race,  color,  or  previous 
condition  of  religious  servitude,  and  all  were  invited  to  be- 
doers  as  well  as  hearers.  So  at  the  next  session  appeared 
ex-Judge  Cottaway,  who  had  written  a  book  and  was  a 
vestryman  of  St.  Amos  Parish ;  Broker  "Whilcher,  who  wor- 


CONSIDERATION  FOR  NEW  MEMBERS.  497 

shiped  with  the  Unitarians,  but  found  them  rather  narrow, 
and  Broker  Whilcher's  bookkeeper,  who  read  Herbert 
Spencer,  and  could  not  tell  what  he  himself  believed,  even 
if  to  escape  the  penalty  of  death.  Various  motives  brought 
men  from  other  churches,  including  even  one  from  Father 
McGarry's  flock,  and  all  of  them  were  assured  that  they 
might  say  whatever  they  chose,  provided  only  that  they 
believed  it. 

"  Shall  we  continue  our  consideration  of  last  Sunday's 
lesson  ?"  asked  Deacon  Bates,  after  the  opening  prayer  had 
been  offered.  "We  have  some  new  members,  and  should, 
therefore  have  some  additional  views  to  consider." 

"Let's  hear  everybody,"  said  Captain  Maile.  "If  we 
talk  as  long  about  this  verse  as  we'll  have  to  talk  before  we 
reach  any  agreement,  we'll  all  die  before  we  can  reach  the 
square  up-and-down  verses  that  are  further  along  in  this 
same  sermon." 

"  If  the  class  has  no  objection  to  offer,  we  will  continue 
our  study  of  the  third  verse  of  the  fifth  chapter  of  Matthew, 
and  those  who  spoke  on  last  Sunday  will  allow  the  newer 
members  and  others  an  opportunity  to  make  their  views 
known."  As  Deacon  Bates  spoke,  his  eye  rested  warningly 
on  Mr.  Jodderel. 

"  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Jodderel,  "  that  the  new  members 
ought  to  know  what  ideas  have  already  been  presented,  so 
as  to  throw  any  new  light  upon  them,  if  they  can.  The 
nature  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  now,  is  the  most  import- 
ant Question  suggested  by  the  lesson,  and— 

"  It  won't  be  of  the  slightest  consequence  to  any  one," 
interrupted  Principal  Alleman,  "unless  they  first  comply 
with  the  condition  which  the  verse  imposes  upon  those  wha 
want  to  reach  the  kingdom." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  remarked  President 
Lottson ;  "  Jesus  said  that  the  poor  in  spirit  should  have 
the  kingdom  of  heaven;  He  didn't  say  that  no  one  else 
should  share  it  with  them.  What  is  written  doesn't  always, 
express  all  that  is  meant." 


498  A  PBACTICAL  APPLICATION. 

"It  doesn't  in  insurance  policies,  anyhow,"  said  Squire 
Woodhouse ;  "  when  my  barn  burned " 

"Time  is  precious,  my  brethren,"  said  Deacon  Bates 
hastily,  scenting  a  personality.  "  I  will  therefore  ask  Judge 
Cottaway  for  his  opinion  of  the  passage." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  judge,  with  that  impressive  cough 
which  is  the  rightful  indulgence  of  a  man  who  has  written 
a  volume  on  the  rules  of  evidence,  "  that  '  poor  in  spirit ' 
undoubtedly  means  unassuming,  rightly  satisfied  with  what 
is  their  due,  mindful  of  the  fact  that  human  nature  is  so 
imperfect  that  whatever  a  man  obtains  is  probably  more 
than  he  deserves.  They  cannot  be  the  meek,  for  special 
allusion  is  made  to  the  meek  in  this  same  group  of  specially 
designated  persons.  Neither  can  it  refer  to  people  who  are 
usually  called  poor-spirited  persons,  to  wit,  those  who  are 
too  devoid  of  what  is  commonly  designated  as  spirit, 
for  these  are  properly  classified  as  peace-makers,  and 
have  a  similar  though  not  identical  blessing  promised  to 
them." 

"  The  class  owes  its  thanks  to  the  judge  for  his  clear 
definition  of  the  term  '  poor  in  spirit,'  "  said  Mr.  Jodderel, 
41  and  if  he  can  be  equally  distinct  upon  the  expression 
'  kingdom  of  heaven '  he  will  put  an  end  to  a  great  deal  of 
senseless  blundering." 

"  I  know  of  but  one  definition,"  said  the  judge,  "  heaven 
is  the  at  ode  of  God  and  the  angels,  and  of  those  who  are 
finally  saved." 

"  Ah,  but  tvhere  is  it  ?  that's  the  question  this  class  wants 
answered,"  said  Mr.  Jodderel,  twisting  his  body  and  craning 
his  head  forward  as  he  awaited  the  answer. 

"  Really,"  said  the  judge,  "you  must  excuse  me.  I  don't 
know  where  it  is,  and  I  can't  see  that  study  as  to  its  locality 
can  throw  any  light  upon  the  lesson." 

This  opinion,  delivered  by  an  ex-judge,  who  had  written 
^a  book  on  the  rules  of  evidence,  would  have  quieted  almost 
any  one  else,  and  the  members'  faces  expressed  a  sense  of 
relief  as  they  thought  that  Mr.  Jodderel  was  not  one  of  the 


FILLIBUSTERING   0£   MEMBEES.  499 

faint-hearted,   and  in   his   opinion    faint-heartedness   and 
quietness  were  one  and  the  same  thing. 

"No  light  upon  the  lesson?"  echoed  Mr.  JoddereL 
"  Why,  what  is  the  Bible  for,  if  not  to  inform  us  of  our 
destiny?  What  is  this  world  but  a  place  of  preparation 
for  another  ?  And  how  can  we  prepare  ourselves  unless  we 
know  what  our  future  place  and  duty  is  to  be?" 

"Next!"  exclaimed  Deacon  Bates  with  more  than  his 
usual  energy,  and  Mr.  Jodderel  sank  back  into  his  chair 
and  talked  angrily  with  every  feature  but  his  mouth,  and 
with  his  whole  body  besides.  "  Mr.  Whilcher  has  some 
new  ideas  to  present,  no  doubt,"  continued  the  leader,  brac- 
ing himself  somewhat  firmly  in  his  chair,  for  the  Deacon 
naturally  expected  an  assault  from  a  man  of  Mr.  Whilcher's 
peculiar  views. 

"Poverty  of  spirit  seems  to  me  to  be  old  English  for 
modesty,"  said  Mr.  Whilcher,  "  We  know  yery  little,  com- 
paratively, of  the  great  designs  of  God,  and  about  as  little 
of  the  intentions  of  our  fellow-men,  so  we  should  be  very 
careful  how  we  question  our  Maker  or  criticise  our  neigh- 
bors. No  human  being  would  appreciate  divine  perfection 
if  he  saw  it ;  no  man  can  give  his  fellow-  men  full  credit  for 
what  they  would  do,  if  they  were  angels,  and  are  sorry 
because  they  can't  do.  I  think  the  passage  means  that 
only  by  that  modesty,  that  self-repression,  by  which  alone 
a  man  can  accept  the  inevitable  as  decreed  by  God,  and  for- 
bear that  fault-finding  which  comes  fully  as  easy  as  breath- 
ing, can  a  man  be  fitted  for  the  companionship  of  the  loving 
company  which  awaits  us  all  in  the  next  world  " 

"  Whereabouts  ?"  asked  Mr.  Jodderel. 

Half-a-dozen  members  filibustered  at  once,  and  Mr. 
Jodderel  was  temporarily  suppressed,  after  which  Squire 
Woodhouse  remarked : 

"  Well,  now,  that  sounds  first-rate — I  never  knew  before 
that  Unitarians  had  such  good  religion  in  them — no  harm 
meant,  you  knowj  Whilcher." 

"Now  let  us  hear  from  Mr.  Bungfloat,"  said  Deacon 
Bates. 


500  AN  UNPOPULAR  IDEA. 

Mr.  Bungfloat,  bookkeeper  to  Mr.  Whilcher,  hopelessly 
explored  his  memory  for  something  from  Herbert  Spencer 
that  would  bear  upon  the  subject,  but  finding  nothing  at 
hand,  he  quoted  some  expressions  from  John  Stuart  Mill's 
essay  on  "  Nature,"  and  was  hopelessly  demoralized  when 
he  realized  that  they  did  not  bear  in  the  remotest  manner 
upon  the  topic  under  consideration.  Then  Deacon  Bates 
announced  that  the  subject  was  open  for  general  remark 
and  comment.  Mr.  Jodderel  was  upon  his  feet  in  an  instant, 
though  the  class  has  no  rule  compelling  the  members  to 
rise  while  speaking. 

"Mr.  Leader,"  said  he,  "everybody  has  spoken,  but 
nobody  has  settled  the  main  question,  which  is,  where  is 
the  'kingdom 'of  heaven'  ?  Everybody  knows  who  the  poor 
in  spirit  are  ;  any  one  that  didn't  know  when  we  began  has 
now  a  lot  of  first-class  opinions  to  choose  from.  But  where 
and  what  is  heaven — that  is  what  we  want  to  know." 

A  subdued  but  general  groan  indicated  the  possibility 
that  Mr.  Jodderel  was  mistaken  as  to  the  desires  of  the 
class.  Meanwhile,  young  Mr.  Banty,  who  had  been  to 
Europe,  and  listened  to  much  theological  debate  in  cafes 
and  beer-gardens,  remarked : 

"  I'm  not  a  member  of  this  respected  body,  but  I  seem 
to  be  included  in  the  chairman's  invitation.  I  profess  to 
be  a  man  of  the  world — I've  been  around  a  good  deal — and 
I  never  could  see  that  the  poor  in  spirit  amounted  to  a  row 
of  pins.  If  they're  fit  for  heaven  they  ought  to  be  fit  for 
something  on  this  side  of  that  undiscovered  locality." 

"  Discovered  millions  upon  millions  of  times,  bless  the 
Lord,"  interrupted  Squire  Woodhouse. 

"  Well,  the  discoverers  sent  no  word  back,  at  any  rate," 
said  young  Mr.  Banty,  "  so  there's  one  view  I  think  ought 
to  be  considered;  isn't  it  possible  that  Jesus  was  mis- 
taken?" 

Mr.  Primm  turn  pale  and  Deacon  Bates  shivered  vio- 
lently, while  a  low  hum  and  a  general  shaking  of  heads 
showed  the  unpopularity  of  young  Mr.  Banty's  idea. 


THE  FKEEST  EXPRESSION  OF  OPINION.  501 

"Tlie  class  cannot  entertain  such  a  theory  for  an 
instant,"  answered  Deacon  Bates,  as  soon  as  he  could 
recover  his  breath,  "  though  it  encourages  the  freest  expres- 
sion of  opinion." 

"  Oh !"  remarked  Mr.  Banty,  with  a  derisive  smile.  The 
tone  in  which  this  interjection  was  delivered  put  the  class 
upon  its  spirit  at  once. 

"  Our  leader  means  exactly  what  he  says,"  said  Mr.  Jod- 
derel ;  "  any  honest  expression  of  opinion  is  welcome 
here." 

"  If  such  were  not  the  case,"  said  Mr.  Primjn,  "  a  rival 
class  would  not  have  been  formed." 

"  And  none  of  us  would  have  learned  how  many  sides 
there  are  to  a  great  question,"  said  Mr.  Buffle. 

"Larger  liberty  wouldn't  be  possible,"  said  Builder 
Stott.  "  Why,  I've  just  had  to  shudder  once  in  a  while,  bub 
the  speakers  meant  what  they  said,  and  I  rejoiced  that  there 
was  somewhere  where  they  could  say  it." 

"  I've  said  everything  I've  wanted  to,"  remarked  Squire 
Woodhouse. 

"  That's  so,"  exclaimed  Insurance  President  Lottson. 

"  I  haven't  seen  any  man  put  down,"  testified  Captain 
Maile,  "  and  I  don't  yet  understand  what  to  make  of  it." 

"  Nobody  could  ask  a  fairer  show,"  declared  Mr.  Radley. 

"  The  utmost  courtesy  has  been  displayed  toward  me," 
said  Dr.  Fahrenglotz,  "  although  I  am  conscious  my  views 
are  somewhat  at  variance  with  those  of  others." 

"  The  nature  of  proof  has  not  been  as  clearly  understood 
as  it  should  have  been,"  said  young  Lawyer  Scott ;  "  but  no 
one  has  lacked  opportunity  to  express  his  sentiments." 

"  $o  far  from  fault  being  found  with  the  freedom  of 
speech,"  said  Mr.  Alleman,  "  the  sentiment  of  the  class  is, 
I  think,  that  the  expression  of  additional  individual  impres- 
sions would  have  been  cordially  welcomed,  as  they  will  also 
hereafter  be." 

Young  Mr.  Banty  felt  himself  to  be  utterly  annihilated, 
and  the  pillars  of  the  class  looked  more  stable  and  enduring 


502  DR.  HUMBLETOP'S  CLASS  OF  ONE. 

than  ever,  and  felt  greatly  relieved  when  the  session  ended, 
and  they  could  congratulate  each  other  on  the  glorious 
jspirit  of  liberty  which  had  marked  their  collective  delibera- 
tions. And  when  Squire  Woodhouse  dashed  impetuously 
from  the  room,  and  returned  to  report  that  Dr.  Humbletop's 
class  consisted  of  one  solitary  pupil,  several  of  the  members 
unconsciously  indulged  in  some  hearty  hand-shaking. 


WHAT  THE   PRESS   SAY   OF  US, 


"THE  following,  from  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  is  a  well-deserved  compliment  to  tw<y 
promising  young  men,  whom  we  take  pleasure  in  introducing  to  the  public,  and  especially 
authors  of  books  : 

'•'  'A  NEW  PUBLISHING  FIRM. — The  Derby  name  is  an  old  and  honorable  one  in  American 
boolc-publishing  annals,  and  its  reappear  nco  in  the  firm  of  Derby  Brothers  will  be  welcomed. 
by  all  collectors  of  books.  Mr.  Frank  M.  Derby  and  Mr.  Charles  S.  Derby,  two  sons'of  Mr.  J.  C. 
Derby,  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  onc^  prominent  house  of  J.  C.  Derby  &  Co.,  and  who  is  now 
the  minager  of  an  important  branch  of  Messrs.  D.  Appleton  &  Co.'s  business,  have  established 
themselves  as  publishers  at  21  Park  Row.  Their  first  book  is  "  Some  Folks,"  a  large  volume  of 
character  sketches  and  stories  of  Western  life,  by  J»hn  Habberton,  the  author  of  "Helen's 
Babies."  The  two  brothers  who  constitute  the  new  firm  have  the  advantage  of  thorough  train- 
ing by  long  service  in  the  Appleton  establishment,  and  their  trained  judgments  ought  to  win 
for  them  speedily  the  success  which  we  heartily  wish  them.'  " — Pomeroy's  Democrat. 

"A  NAME  familiar  to  old  buyers  of  books  reappears  in  the  book  trade  with  the  formation 
of  th-;  flrm  of  Derby  Brothers,  Xo.  21  Park  Row.  The  partners,  Frank  M.  and  Charles  3. 
Derby,  are  both  sons  of  J.  C.  Derby,  of  the  old  firm  of  Derby  &  Jackson.  The  first  book  to 
have  the  imprint  of  the  new  flrm  will  be  still  another  Habberton  book,  in  which  that  prolific 
author  collects  more  of  his  character-sketches  and  Western  stories  under  the  title  of  '  Some 
Folks.'"—  Tribune. 

"  MESSRS.  FRANK  M.  AND  CHARLES  S.  DERBY,  sons  of  J.  C.  Derby,  long  and  prominently 
known  as  a  New  York  publisher,  have  formed  a  partnership,  under  the  firm  name  of  Derby 
Brothers,  anjj  established  themselves  in  the  publishing  business  at  21  Park  Row,  in  this  city. 
They  are  fortunate  in  having  for  their  first  book  'Some  Folks,'  a  new  volume  of  character- 
sketches  and  Western  stories,  by  John  Habberton,  the  author  of  'Helen's  Babies.'  The 
Messrs.  Derby  have  long  been  connected  with  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  of  whose  subscription  de- 
partment Mr.  J.  C.  Derby  is  manager  ;  and  their  capacity  and  integrity  will,  we  trust,  onca 
more  make  the  Derby  name  prominent  in  the  American  book  trade." —  Independent. 

"MESSRS.  FRANK  M.  DERBY  AND  CHARLES  S.  DERBY  have  formed  a  partnership  in  book- 
publishing,  under  the  name  of  Derby  Brothers  at  21  Park  Row.  Their  first  venture  promises 
well  for  their  future  popularity  and  success,  being  a  new  work  by  the  author  of  'Helen's 
Babies.'  Mr.  Habberton's  book  is  entitled  'Some  Folk*,'  and  depicts,  with  a  free  and  racy 
pen,  the  more  picturesque  phases  of  Western  life,  the  eccentricities  of  our  New  England 
cousins,  and  the  salient  traits  of  Southern  character.  Messrs.  Derby  come  with  good  right 
into  the  guild  of  publishers,  their  father  being  Mr.  J.  C.  Derby,  now  with  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
and  widely  known  in  the  book  world."—  Home  Journal,  July  IZth. 

"LITERARY. — New  men  are  coming  forward  in  the  publishing  business  in  the  Derby 
Brolhers  sons  of  Mr.  J.  C.  Derby,  who  was  well  known  in  the  trade  before  the  late  unplea- 
santness with  the  South.  These  gentlemen.  Mr.  Frank:  M  and  Mr.  Charles  S.  Derby,  have 
had  a  thorough  training  with  the  Messrs.  Appleton,  with  whom  their  father  remains  as  the 
manager  of  the  'New  American  Cyclopaedia,'  and  have  secured  as  their  first  venture  Mr.  John 
Habberton,  for  whom  they  are  to  publish  by  subscription  a  volume  of  miscellaneous  storiea- 
under  the  title  of  'Some  Folks.'  They  are  said  to  be  as  clever  a*  the  first  sketches  of  Bret 
Hartc,  and  are  likely  to  have  a  large  circulation." — Express,  July  1th. 


BOOKS  BY  JOHN  HABBERTON. 

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that  makes  it  very  attractive."—  Springfield  Union. 

"Is  much  more  artistically  written  than  'Helen's  Babies.'"—  St.  John 
Watchman. 

"  The  characters  are  perfectly  portrayed,  and  the  whole  book  is  full  of  a 
quiet  humor  delightful  to  the  reader.  We  commend  it  as  one  of  the  most  ori- 
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"A  book  showing  careful  thought,  and  will  repay  a  careful  reading." — 
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"It  is  not  easy  to  see  exactly  how  any  one  can  be  offended  with  the  book. 
but  theological  hatred  will  flourish  on  such  scanty  nutriment  that  doubtless 
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25th    I,OOO. 

OTHER   PEOPLE'S  CHILDREN. 

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are  eagerly  waiting  for  the  narrative  of  the  further  haps  and  mishaps  of  those 
irresistible  youths,  "Budge"  and  "Toddie." 

"They  are  as  bright  and  full  of  pranks  as  ever,  and  will  give  the  reader 
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THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY  f 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


100m-8,'65(F6282s8)2373 


